


From Fate to Family

by remy71923



Series: Modern Love [4]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-01-18 16:51:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21280043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remy71923/pseuds/remy71923
Summary: Steve Rogers recounted the three things over the past few years that he could say have changed his life: the first was when he found a baby while he was on his morning run in a park in a foreign country, the second was when he met Natasha Romanoff, a woman whom he had come to adore and love, and the third...well, it was something he never expected.Loosely inspired by "Going Back to China in Search of My Daughter’s Secret Past" from the Modern Love section of the New York Times.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Series: Modern Love [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533998
Comments: 15
Kudos: 134





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Beyond my own desire to know what the note might reveal, I saw it as my only link to the people whose loss had led to my gaining the privilege of nurturing a child and watching her life unfold. Who were they? What had they suffered in abandoning their daughter?"
> 
> To my friend, Taya, who's also one of my major inspirations for this fic apart from the Modern Love story, you are strong, and you are loved. This one's for you. :)

There are three things, he figured, that happened in Steve Rogers’ life that completely turned him around. 

For the first one, he never thought it would happen during a morning run.

Let alone, a morning run in a foreign country. He was in Moscow for work. Tony, his best-friend-slash-boss, or simply _ best friend, _ as Tony loved to proclaim himself to be, had set up the company he owns (and the company where Steve is part of the executive board) for a tech convention in the city, and he was dragged in upon Tony’s quick insistence.

“It’ll be fun!” he told Steve. “And it’s not everyday you can visit Russia. I heard it’s beautiful. With lots of beautiful women too.” Tony wiggled his eyebrows at Steve. “Maybe this fine bachelor will get out of Russia as _ not _ a bachelor anymore.”

And Tony was nice, accommodating in every sense, so while they were in Moscow, he wasn’t all too strict with the schedule of his team. He let them have the freedom to explore and do whatever they want in Russia anytime, so as long as the team would get back to the convention on time and leave on time. They also ended up in one of the best hotels in the city too, which had become a huge bonus, especially since Tony volunteered to pay.

So Steve decided to push through with his early morning routine by starting his mornings with morning runs.

He quickly acclimated to the naturally cold weather in Russia, and quickly learned the paths and ways of the city so he wouldn’t need to look at a map or his phone while on his run. On the third day of their stay in Russia, he could practically move around the city without looking at street signs or maps (Plus, it’s not like he can read the street maps. He didn’t speak Russian.). He easily acclimated to his route, and he figured it was easy enough to remember anyway.

And he supposed that was when his life changed.

Timiryazevskaya Park was beautiful, but it was practically empty especially at six in the morning. He’d been running through the park for the past three days though, so it’s not like this surprised him.

What surprised him, however, was something he never expected.

When Steve goes on runs, he never wears earphones, unlike his coworkers and other joggers he usually encounter back at home. And he supposed it was lucky he didn’t, because while he was on his run, he was stopped when he heard a small cry.

He stopped, and he looked around. The park was empty. No one was supposed to be there, but the small cries persisted. He decided to follow the sound, because even anywhere, he can recognize that sound, and when he found the source of the sound, he was both grateful and regretful that he did. Grateful in a sense of, “Thank God, I found it because it’s cold and it could have died in the deep deep Russian cold” and regretful in a sense because _ then, _ he had the responsibility of having to take care of how to go about it.

He sighed when he looked at _ the _ source of the small cries that interrupted his morning run. A baby wrapped in a pink blanket was in a woven basket, and the baby was crying loudly. He knelt down and saw a piece of paper sticking out of its blanket, and when he took it to read it, it was in Russian characters.

Right then, he had a choice: he can leave, and proceed with his morning run and pretend he never noticed the baby at all, or he can call authorities and risk being late at the convention because he figured he’d have to deal with the officials who will be asking about how he found the baby, or who _ might _ have left the baby, and he doesn’t speak Russian. At all.

He pulled his phone out and dialed a number. “What do you want?” a sleepy voice called.

“Hey, I need your help,” he said, as he looked down at the baby in the basket, the baby’s cries quieting down when it saw another human’s presence. “Do you speak Russian?”

“What? We get a convention in Moscow, and you think I speak Russian?” Tony asked, and Steve rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t. Why? Please don’t tell me you got into trouble and you need me to speak to Russian officers.”

Steve sighed. “No. I’m in a park, out for a morning run,” he said. “But I saw an abandoned baby while I was running.”

“You saw _ what? _” Tony incredulously asked, and Steve heard a thump on the other end of the line, so he figured the shock sent Tony out of bed. “You saw what?”

“A baby.”

“Yeah, I heard you,” Tony said, and Steve sighed. “Heard you the first time. A...what? Where?”

“In a park.”

“What park, exactly?” he asked, and Steve looked around.

“Kinda hard to say the name in Russian, Tony,” he said. “Use my tracker, but I’m near the hotel we’re staying in.”

“Holy sh—okay,” Tony said, and Steve could hear the deep breaths. “Just...leave the baby alone, alright? I’ll call officials, and they can take care of it.”

“What? No,” Steve answered. “No to leaving the baby alone. It’s cold, Tony, and the baby’s all alone.”

“Steve, I swear, if you do, we’ll be tangled in this mess, and right now, mess is _ not _ in the agenda.”

But Steve took one look at the baby, who had opened her—the baby is a girl, a beautiful girl—green eyes that are wide and looking at him, and he was immediately captivated. He adjusted the blanket and found that the baby’s hair was brown and wavy.

And something tugged in his heart, that he hung up on Tony’s call.

He sat down beside the basket and slowly took the baby in his arms. The baby cooed and yawned, and Steve was very careful in handling her. He looked around the perimeter of the park once more to check for anyone—the mother of the baby, maybe—who could see him with the child, but there was absolutely no one.

She would be about almost two months old, maybe, and she looked healthy and well-fed. He grabbed the note once again and looked at it, inspected it, hoped that any English translation would be present below the Russian writing, but there wasn’t. A cold wind passed and he shivered, and he wrapped the pink blanket around the baby’s body again, as her cheeks turned pink and rosy. She let out a soft sneeze and Steve chuckled.

“It’s cold, huh? The cold making you sneeze, hm?” he cooed, and the baby started reaching up to his nose. He leaned down and the baby smiled.

He felt a connection, one he couldn’t quite explain, but it was there, and it’s connecting him to the baby.

Russian officers with an official translator came in grumbling in Russian, along with Tony, and he was asked a few questions about the abandoned baby he found. He told his story, which wasn’t much, and the officers asked for the baby to be handed to them. He was hesitant, but Tony was already convincing him to give the baby and let the officers handle it.

“What’s the process of adoption if I were to adopt the baby?”

It was a question that surprised everyone, really, most especially Tony and Steve. Tony, for one, had this mouth hung open as he incredulously looked at his coworker and friend, as if he was insane. And really, Steve probably _ was, _ because even after he asked it, he was surprised by the question himself _ . _ But it’s not like he can take it back, nor did he regretted asking it. He _ was _ genuinely curious of the process after all. The Russian officers sighed, and proceeded to tell Steve that it would be a long process, but they would have to ensure that the baby was _ indeed _ abandoned before she can be put up for adoption.

“The mother...or whoever left her, left a note,” Steve said, adjusting the baby in one arm so he can kneel down to grab the note in the basket. “I don’t know what it says, it’s in Russian, but...maybe you can find something useful in there.” Their official translator took the note from Steve’s hand and spoke in Russian to the officers.

The translator and officers took a look at the note, and Steve was curious. “What does it say?” he asked. The translator, a small brunette man with a sharp nose and naturally clenched jaw, looked up at the two officers and spoke something in Russian, and the officers nodded.

“In Russian, it said that the baby’s name is Rose, born on the fifth of February,” _ Rose, born on February 5. _ He looked down at the baby who was looking curiously up at him. “No name of the parents, not even the mother, but it said here _ ‘Zabotit'sya o ney. Mama sozhaleyet’ _, which means to take care of her, and the mother says sorry.” The translator folded the note and handed it back to the officers. “The mother probably left her here, whoever she is.”

How can a mother just leave her child like that? What kind of mother does that? Steve was more curious, filled with questions, really, rather than angry. He didn’t think he had the right to be angry, not at a stranger, not at the mother who left her child in the cold, in the middle of the park laying in a basket. But he wanted to know, how can a mother leave such a beautiful baby, hoping that someone can just pick the baby up, or worse, just leaving her there to die?

He didn’t want to judge, but this was just cruel.

And so he repeated the question: “What’s the process of adoption if I were to adopt the baby?”

Tony was livid, but Steve ignored him. He told Steve he was insane, telling him to leave this in the hands of the officials, and the translators and officers seconded him, but Steve was adamant. He didn’t let go of the baby, and the baby—Rose, her name is Rose, a beautiful name for a beautiful baby—eventually fell asleep cuddled up in Steve’s arms despite the noise and the cold around her. The baby must be hungry, he thought, Rose must be hungry. He didn’t know, none of them knew how long Rose had been crying alone in the park, how long before the mother left her in the cold, but he knew she must be hungry. But she wasn’t crying yet, so he figured maybe she was just looking for someone to hold her.

He met her only an hour ago, and he knew absolutely _ nothing _ with babies, had _ zero _ experience with babies, but something inside him tugged just looking at Rose in his arms.

Maybe he _ was _ insane, but he’d do anything to give the baby a proper home, raise her like she was his own.

He repeated the question again, and the four men sighed, defeated and exasperated by his persistence. The translator explained the legal processes: that the baby would have to be taken to a proper legal ministry to look for the parents, maybe give the parents a chance to rethink their decision of giving up their child. After a certain amount of time, the baby would be put in foster care, and if Steve wanted to adopt her, he would have to file a lot of papers: INS, dossiers required by the U.S. and Russian agencies, which in itself might take an average of four months. Then there would be a waiting time of another 2-6 months for the child to be referred, but he figured since a specific child was already in mind, it might be shorter than that. Then several visits would be done afterwards, simultaneous with the baby being checked up in hospitals and agencies.

“All in all, the process of adoption will take you not less than ten months, possibly even more.” he finally said.

“I’ll do it,” Steve said, clutching Rose closer to him. “I’ll do it, I’ll go through it.”

The translator looked at him suspiciously for a moment, but he eventually relented and spoke to the Russian officers again. Tony was shaking his head, and Steve looked at him. “Call me insane—”

“You’re insane,” Tony finally said, and Steve let out a huff. “You’re _ insane, _ Rogers, I don’t know what came up in you—”

“I don’t either, Tony!” Steve exclaimed quietly. “I don’t know what came up to me but it felt right, _ this _felt right. I can’t just leave her here. What if she ends up in a bad foster home, huh? Or what if she ends up in a bad family?”

“Then that’s not your problem! Never was and it never should. Let the officials handle it.” Tony urged.

“No, Tony,” Steve said firmly. “I’m going through with this. I...I can’t explain it, but I promise you that it...it just _ feels _ right, and I know what I’m doing. The least thing you can do is to support me with it.” He huffed and looked down at the sleeping baby in his arms. “I _ need _ my best friend’s support in this, please.”

Tony sighed, and crossed his arms, contemplating his best friend’s words. Steve prayed his words would get through Tony, as he watched his face go from a frown to a relented sigh and huff. He put his hands on his hips and pursed his lips as he looked at Steve.

“You know the only time you ever call me your best friend is when you need something,” Tony said, and Steve grinned. “And the shit part about it is that it _ works. _” Tony huffed and looked down at the baby. “Fine I’ll...I’ll help, and I’ll see what I can do, which strings I can pull to speed the process in America.”

Steve grinned widely, and he felt his face hurt, but he found that he didn’t care. “But we have a convention in two hours, and you...you gotta let them handle her first, man.” Tony said.

The process, Steve found, was grueling and long, and if it weren’t for Tony’s help through his connections in the legal agencies, Steve would have probably thought of giving up. They got the necessary dossiers in just two months, while the Russian agencies have declared that they are still “in the process” of looking for Rose’s parents. When news came in that she was finally put in a foster home, the dossiers and ISN were approved and processed.

Steve visited back in Russia for the evaluation of parents and kid visitation on Rose’s eighth month, and the officials assisting him remarked at how quick the process became for Steve. Rose, of course, hadn’t been able to recognize Steve, but the connection was quickly reestablished, further encouraging Steve to wait since the process is more than halfway done.

And in no time, on Rose’s first birthday, Steve was able to adopt her and bring her back to America. From the moment he brought her in America, she was instantly loved, especially by the people close to Steve. Tony and his wife, Pepper, would drop by Steve’s place to bond and play with the baby, and they’ve already managed to spoil the kid by showering her with various gifts of toys and baby clothes (to which Steve had been immensely thankful for since he saved a lot with the toys to decorate her room). It didn’t help that he also made his best friend, Sam, her godfather, so he was also spoiling her with tons of gifts, and was also a constant presence in her life since she was brought to America.

Rose had grown to be a wonderful and beautiful little girl, and Steve is still absolutely floored at how beautiful Rose is—naturally rosy cheeks, brown hair, green eyes and pearly white teeth. Steve wondered too many times what her parents might have looked that they had this beautiful girl.

He also wondered what drove them to abandon her. He thought about it plenty of times, but if the Russian government knew nothing of her parents, then he figured that he wouldn’t either.

* * *

And it turned out Steve couldn't contain his curiosity at all, especially as he watched Rose grow. He got more curious, especially because he had to explain to his new friends and coworkers why every trait his daughter had were different from him: he had blonde hair and blue eyes, while his daughter had brown hair and green eyes. There was nothing bad in telling about how she’s his adopted daughter, but what became tricky was answering the questions that followed.

“What made you want to adopt a daughter?”

“You adopted a kid even while you’re single? Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“She’s from Russia? Why did you decide to adopt a girl from Russia?”

But the most intriguing question even he had no answer to was: “Were they able to find her parents, if she was really abandoned in a park in a basket and a small note inside?”

Steve figured it might be best if he didn’t know, but he _ wanted _ to know. He wanted to know the origins of his daughter, or why she ended up coddled in a basket in a park while he happened to jog by. He wanted to know if she was loved even before he found her, or if she was taken care of. He wanted to know more about where she came from, and how she happened to end up with the name “Rose”, and the only thing her parents had given her, apart from her beautiful characteristics.

He wanted to know, too, if they ever regretted giving her up and abandoning her.

And he shares all of these with a newfound friend Sam introduced him to. She happened to be friends and coworkers with the woman Sam is dating, Maria, and Sam had invited her to join them once in hopes that Steve would be interested in dating someone like her, and her dating someone like him.

Her name is Natasha. Natasha Romanoff.

She is the second thing that happened to Steve that changed his life too.

She’s three years younger, and significantly shorter in height than he is, petite and slender, and has beautiful wavy red hair and blue eyes. She’s a New Yorker, born and raised in Long Island, she said, and she even got the accent as well. She moved to Manhattan about a year ago, and works at a daycare center there, teaching kids and taking care of children. It’s one of the most fulfilling things she does, she said at their first meeting, and she enjoys it a lot.

And she is absolutely beautiful, if Steve would say so himself. Her smile is gorgeous, and her laughter infectious. She has a charming and upbeat personality, and is a good listener, as she always makes sure that she keeps herself interested in whatever the other person is saying. He admired her, and was captivated by everything about her. And Steve would totally, definitely, date her if it were up to him.

But the thing is, she’s not interested in dating.

She made that clear when he asked her out, and she also made it clear that it’s not a Steve thing, that it was her. “I’m not ready for it yet,” she told him quietly, shyly, even, that he almost didn’t recognize her voice. “It’s just...I can’t explain it yet, but…”

“There’s no need to explain,” Steve had told her. “It’s okay, and I completely understand.” _ Lies, he really didn’t, but it was really okay. _ “I do hope we stay as friends, though. I’d hate to lose a friend like you.”

And she gave him a million-watt smile that melted his heart and pained his chest at the same time. “Of course. I don’t see why not.” she told him, so Steve figured it’s what they are.

They only ever meet at evenings, and usually the majority of their meetings would comprise of a “double date” with Sam and Maria. It would be after office hours twice a week, and usually kept short, since Steve needed to be back home to take care of Rose, who, in the meantime, would be under Pepper’s care (she insisted, and who was he to deny free babysitting services?). Over the weeks that turned into months, Steve would ask to hang out and have dinner with Natasha alone, and she would agree, and they would exchange more stories about work, get to know each other more, and appreciate each other's company more.

He told her about Rose, of course, but only in passing, as he only ever told her about the fact that she was adopted, and that she’s a very beautiful and wonderful little girl. When she asked about the things she did and the things she enjoyed, he would tell her, and she enjoyed listening to his stories about Rose, and had a fair share of stories from the kids she takes care of in the daycare she works in, occasionally giving him advice on how to deal with toddlers as well, and informing him about the development stages of a kid, all of which he saw or will see in Rose. He learned a lot about how to care more for Rose from Natasha, to whom he’s grateful for, of course.

As months passed, they got closer, and over time, it grew harder for Steve to just view her as a friend. He admired her, _ liked _ her because of her intelligence, wit and flair of confidence tinged with humility. Dinners after office hours eventually became just the two of them, and he wasn’t one to complain about it.

On one of their dinners, he let his phone menu, letting his wallpaper screen linger while he looked at the menu, and Natasha had glanced upon it. “Is that your daughter?” she asked, and when Steve looked, he saw the photo of Rose as his wallpaper in his phone.

The sight of his daughter’s face still managed to make his heart flutter, so he smiled and nodded. “Yeah, this is her,” he said. He picked up his phone and opened a photo of her and showed it to Natasha. “Rose Rogers. She’s a beautiful little three-year-old.”

Natasha stared at the photo for a long time, as if unable to keep her eyes off of it. The corners of her mouth quirked up, and she looked at Steve. “May I?” she asked softly, taking his phone.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Steve said proudly. “There’s a whole lot of album just of her face, you’re free to look at it.”

She allowed Steve to order her anything, so she can swipe through photos of Rose. Steve figured it was because Natasha found Rose adorable (since many of his friends would also steal his phone so they can swipe through photos of her), but when he looked, there was a certain glint in her eyes that he couldn’t quite point out as she continued looking through the photos. Steve allowed her to watch some videos he has of Rose as well, and he found, from there, that the glint might be that of longing tinged with sadness, but the sadness was too fleeting and quick, immediately replaced with the glint of adoration like all his friends had when looking at Rose.

“She _ is _ adorable,” Natasha agreed, giving the phone back to Steve. She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the edge of the table and clasping her hands together. “Tell me more about her.”

“What do you wanna know?” he asked, and Natasha took a moment to contemplate.

And she went through all the frequently asked questions people had of him: what made him want to adopt, what the process was, how he managed to raise her, and all that, and he answered each question thoroughly, happy to be able to tell Rose’s story again to another friend. Even as their food came, Steve was still talking about the process he had to go through when adopting Rose.

“Took me eleven months to complete the process, and a few thousand dollars, of course,” Steve said, and Natasha chuckled. “But it was worth it, of course. She was worth it.”

Natasha smiled and toyed with her half plate of pasta with her fork. “What did you...how...what did you say about finding her again?” she asked.

“Oh, you mean how I found Rose?” he asked, and she nodded. “Well, I was jogging in a park in Moscow and heard a baby’s cry, and I stopped and found her.” He proceeded to tell his story of how he found her in a woven basket, and the note attached to the pink towel wrapped around her as well.

“I actually kept her pink towel, so she still has it,” Steve said. “Figured it was her mother’s, one of the few things she gave her, so she should might as well keep it, you know.”

Natasha was silent, but she was listening attentively, and Steve proceeded. “I’ve always wondered, you know,” he said. “Like I’ve had these thoughts of maybe going back to Russia so I can get to know more about where she came from. Mostly I’d wanna meet her parents if they’re still there. Ask them...ask them why they did it, why they left her. I mean...I mean I think they meant well, though, the mother especially if the note asking whoever would find her daughter indicated that she was sorry, to take good care of her and to name her Rose.” Steve smiled. “The mother asked for her to be named Rose, and I wonder why.”

The corner of Natasha’s lips quirked upwards. “It’s a beautiful flower,” she said softly, and shrugged. “Probably fit for such a beautiful baby, you know?”

Steve nodded and shrugged. “Probably, yeah,” he responded. “But maybe there could be a deeper meaning to it, though. I mean...like it's probably the first flower the father gave to the mother, or something like that.” Natasha chuckled, and Steve smiled. “It could mean something deeper if the mother insisted on it.”

“It could, yeah,” Natasha agreed. “Have you tried looking for them?”

Steve shook his head. “The Russian officials couldn’t find them, so it’s not like I can, you know,” he said. “Or they could...I mean they could have been really gone, which is why she was found abandoned in the park.” He pursed her lips, and looked up at Natasha. “What do you think? I mean, you work in daycare in New York, so I’m sure there could be some semblance of an insane story like that that you’ve encountered, right? Especially since you work closely with kids and lots of parents?”

Natasha laughed softly and shook her head. “I think you’re watching _ way _ too much Home Alone movies, Steve,” she said, and Steve chuckled. “But no, I...there’s no semblance of things like that in New York, or none that I’ve heard of, at least.” Natasha pursed her lips and straightened up. “But if...you’d allow my two cents in it?”

Steve nodded, encouraging her to continue, and she gave him a small smile. “If the question was why...why she was left in a manner such as how you said it, I don’t think it’s a question of whether the parents loved her or not. They most probably did,” she said, and she looked down. “The mother who left her most probably did.” She looked back up and she smiled. “But love’s probably not enough to raise a child, you know? Especially when they want her to grow up to be...be strong and wonderful, like you raised her to be. In cases like these, love’s not enough, probably, but it was enough to allow the parents to let her go.”

Steve nodded, because it made sense. “You think she was loved before I found her?” he asked softly, and Natasha nodded, looking up at the ceiling.

And there it was again, the _ glint _ in her eyes.

“She was. And she probably still is,” she responded. “Wherever her parents might be, she still probably is, on top of the love you give her.”

While Steve figured Natasha would be right in trying to figure out Rose’s origins, or what her parents might have been thinking or going through before giving her up, it only further piqued his curiosity and interest in knowing and delving more. But his curiosity in knowing more about his daughter’s roots were further pressed down when he found himself asking Natasha out frequently to more dates. He found that it was so easy to talk to Natasha, as she would never get tired of hearing his stories about work, and of course, about Rose. He found, in turn, that Natasha was an interesting one to talk to as well, especially when it comes to dealing with children, and in quelling up all the burning questions he has about Rose and her past as well.

It almost seemed to perfect, he figured, at how easily she tried to make sense of Rose even without meeting her, especially when it comes to making sense out of the questions he had for her past too. She was great with kids, no doubt about that, because of her profession, and her ability to advise Steve with things on how to better care for and understand his little girl.

It made him wonder why she doesn’t have a kid herself.

“It’s not exactly something I’m ready to have yet,” she responded, when he asked her that. “Besides, it’s not like I’m rushing.”

Steve shrugged. “It makes sense, you’re...what, twenty-five? Still young,” he said, and Natasha grinned. “But I’m...just wondering, I mean...if you don’t mind me asking, really, because you never said anything when I asked you before. What...what made you not want that? Not want a family, I mean?”

Natasha paused for a moment, and Steve, for a second, thought that he might have been in the wrong for asking the question, but she responded, albeit hesitant at first. “It’s not that I don’t want one,” she said, and she smiled sadly. “I _ almost _ had one.”

It wasn’t the answer Steve expected. “What happened?” he asked quietly. Natasha looked away and pursed her lips.

“He...uh, he’s gone,” she said quietly. “He was, uh...he was in the military, served in Syria, went missing for months and then...then he was found but it was too late.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve whispered quietly, and Natasha looked back at him and smiled sadly. He reached out a hand, laid it on the table with his palm facing up, and she looked at it for a moment, contemplating whether or not she’ll take it.

But she did, and her hand is smooth as Steve gave it a light squeeze, brushing his thumb at the back of her hand. “When was this?” he asked softly.

Natasha furrowed her brows slightly, as if trying to remember. “Four years ago...or _almost__, _I think,” she answered. “It’s been four years.”

“Tell me about him.” Steve urged softly, and Natasha looked at him, probably trying to gauge whether he would like to hear about her story or not. But he did, he wanted to hear more about her and her past, whether it be beautiful or not. He gave her a small smile, and she returned it.

She returned it with _ that _ glint in her eyes that he once saw before.

“He was...he was kind,” she answered softly. “Passionate in everything he did, and in everything he believed in, most especially in the things he loved, and the people he loved.” Steve smiled and gave her hand another squeeze, and she chuckled softly. “He never judged, not one to, even when you felt like you made the biggest mistake you’ve ever had, he...he turned the judgment or whatever into love.” She smiled. “He was...he was also one to remember all the things about you, even the littlest things, one to also notice even the smallest details about someone too.” Her smile widened. “He always said something about a sparkle, how it’s always so easily seen in my eyes—something about a—”

“Glint,” Steve continued softly, and Natasha paused, her eyes widening a little as she nodded. “A glint in your eyes, right?”

Natasha smirked. “So easy to see, hm?” she asked weakly but Steve shook his head.

“Not really, but it’s there,” he said softly. “I’m sure he saw it better.”

Natasha nodded. “He did,” she answered quietly, then she looked down at their intertwined hands. She swallowed and looked back up at Steve. “I saw a lot of him in you, Steve, and even more so as time passed—that same kindness, and passion and...and love, especially when you talk about Rose.” Steve felt his heart hammer in his chest as he watched Natasha smile. “But I want to move forward, and see you as...as you.”

Steve felt his heart soar, and he smiled, and Natasha chuckled softly—he figured his smile might have come out as goofy, but he didn’t care. He _ felt _ goofy, giddy and happy. He's been wanting this, waiting for this, for _her_ for months. He puts his other hand on top of their interwoven ones, and started, “Nat, you’re saying…”

“I want this...this chance,” she said softly, squeezing his hand in hers. “But I ask you to be patient with me, Steve. Just...wait for me. Wait for me to be fully ready...please.”

Steve nodded, and he brought her hand up to press a kiss on each of her knuckles, and she smiled. “I’ll wait,” he said softly. “However long it takes, I’ll wait.”

Natasha pursed her lips together, and he squeezed her hand gently. “But you have to tell me what I’m waiting for, Nat,” he said quietly. She would ask him to wait, and he will, and he meant it when he said he would wait however long she would ask him to, but he had to know what he’d be waiting for. “What are you going to do to be ready for...for what?” he asked softly.

Natasha looked at him intently, and he could see it—the glint. It’s not as clear as before, but he can see it in her blue eyes.

“Just for me to be ready.” she answered softly, whatever it meant.

* * *

The third thing was something he _ never _ expected at all.

He supposed Steve’s curiosity about Rose’s past had been quelled enough since he started courting Natasha. Like he said before, she seemed too perfect, as if she had all the answers he had whenever he wondered about Rose’s past. She was not one to judge him for the many questions he had, and if she was ever annoyed, she never said so. He told her this once, but she dismissed it with a wave of her hand.

“It’s alright. I kinda enjoy it, you know,” she said, smiling. “I could really see how invested you are with her, and it’s...it’s kinda nice. I like seeing it, I like hearing all about it.”

Like he said, too perfect.

But she never met Rose, nor had Rose ever met Natasha. There was never time for it, it seemed, and every time Steve would ask Natasha to come home with him so she can meet Rose, she would have work waiting for her at home, or she’d say that she was tired. Steve knew excuses when he hears them, and he knows that all her excuses had been to evade meeting Rose, but Steve didn’t think anything bad of it. She did say before she wasn’t ready to have a family yet because of what she “almost” had with her lost loved one (whatever “almost” meant), so he figured starting a romantic relationship with someone might be a big enough step for her already. Getting to meet her significant other’s daughter would be another she was still preparing herself for. And like he said, he would wait.

He never thought bad about it because he watches her every time he would talk about Rose, and the glint of adoration and pure happiness was there in her eyes. So he was confident to say that it’s not like she doesn’t want to meet Rose, maybe it was just timing.

Nonetheless, Steve had made it a point to talk to Rose about Natasha a lot too, since Rose is old enough to understand stories like those from Steve. He makes it a point to talk about her a lot to Rose, of course, since he’s kind of preparing for both of his girls to meet, most especially Rose with Natasha. Rose knows that her father has a “special friend” whom she lovingly calls Nat, and he’d showed a picture of Natasha to Rose too.

It was a picture of her during one of their twice-a-week dinners, when Steve took her to a formal restaurant for a candlelit dinner. She was laughing when he snapped the photo of her, the light from the candle reflecting that of in her wavy scarlet hair and blue eyes, and her smile was wide, showing her perfectly pearly white teeth. She was beautiful.

And Rose smiled when Steve showed her that picture. He was tucking Rose to bed when he did, his heart pounding against his chest, hoping that Rose would at least see that Natasha was good. “She’s really pretty,” Rose said in a small voice. “I like her hair.”

Steve hummed and smiled at her daughter. “Yeah? You have beautiful hair too, wavy like Nat’s.” he said, as he looked back at the photo on his phone.

“Her hair is red like Ariel,” Rose said, grinning. “Like a princess.”

Steve felt his heart flutter. “She looks like a princess, hm?” he asked softly, and Rose nodded as she yawned and rested her head on the pillow, but a sleepy smile is still on her face. “Would you like to meet her someday?”

“Mhm,” Rose said. “Maybe she can sing like Ariel too.”

Steve laughed softly at that, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Maybe, yeah. We’ll ask her to sing for you when you meet,” he said softly. “She would love you, you know. I can’t wait for you to meet her too.”

He pressed a soft kiss on Rose’s forehead and smiled. “But for now, little one, you have to sleep,” he said softly. Rose smiled sleepily as her eyes started fluttering close. “I love you, Rosie. Good night.”

“Night, Daddy,” she said softly as she yawned. “Love you.”

Steve sent Natasha a text message that night: _ Showed Rose the picture of you at dinner. Said you looked like a princess, I kinda agree. _

She responded in less than a minute when Steve started to clean up the dishes he and Rose used from dinner. _ The one from two nights ago? I looked terrible! _ Steve chuckled, but then a follow up message came in. _ Plus you’re biased, and you’ve officially influenced your daughter. _

_ You know what they say about three-year-olds, they’re brutally honest about everything _, Steve responded. He smiled and chuckled when she responded almost immediately.

_ She’s just trying to make her old man feel good. _ Her next response, however, was the one that made his heart melt: _ Can’t wait to meet her soon. :) _

_ Can’t wait too. See you tomorrow night? _

_ You know it. Good night. _

Rose woke up the following morning with a fever and sore throat, so he had to attend to her first. But Tony had called him in for an emergency meeting, so he brought in Rose with him. Pepper, again, volunteered to take care of her, while Tony promised to immediately let him go after the meeting.

He texted Natasha for a rain check on their date that night, telling her that Rose was sick so he had to care for her first, and she was okay with it. _ Perfectly fine. Take care of the little princess first. _

He texted back: _ I’ll make it up to you once Rose is okay, I promise. _

_ You always do. I can at least bring you some lunch in your office? I can have someone to cover for me first for two hours. Let’s eat lunch together. _ Steve smiled at this, and he looked back up at the meeting, nodding along to whatever Tony was saying.

He snuck a reply. _ Would love that. I’ll see you later. _ He texted her the address of the Stark Industries Tower, and she acknowledged with a thumbs-up.

The meeting adjourned at lunchtime, exactly when Natasha had texted him that she was on her way. He proceeded back to his own office, where Tony knocked and opened his door. “Hey,” Tony said, closing the door as he approached him. “Sorry I rushed you and Rosie in.” Steve waved his hand dismissively.

“It’s fine, I understand it,” he said, and he did. The meeting _ was _ urgent, since it concerned the possibility of a new merger with Hammer Industries, to which the majority of them were against it, but Tony needed official documentation of his entire board’s consent before he’d turn down the offer of the other company. “‘Sides, Nat’s going here.”

Tony grinned mischievously and Steve rolled his eyes, but he later gave in to the smile. “She bummed the date night was cancelled?” Tony asked, and Steve shook his head.

“Not really,” he replied. “But she did offer lunch for the first time, so maybe it’s kind of a make-up thing.”

Tony hummed. “Lunch, huh? Must be pretty serious between the two of you now,” he said, and Steve smiled. Tony, Pepper and Sam knew about his blossoming relationship with Natasha, and every one of them, Tony especially, had been teasing Steve about it nonstop.

He couldn’t complain though. He kinda liked it.

“Has she met the little bug yet?” Tony asked, and Steve shook his head.

“Not yet,” he said. He didn’t feel the need to tell Tony about what Natasha opened to him as it felt personal, plus it wasn’t really too big of a problem to begin with anyway. “But she told me she’s excited to.”

“Well, maybe today’s her lucky day. Although she’s sick, so I’d probably wait if I were you,” Tony said, and Steve chuckled. “Tell her to go straight up the private pantry. You can have your private lunch date there.” He turned to leave and Steve laughed softly.

“Thanks, Tony.” He was acknowledged by a wave of Tony’s hand before he left for his office.

He went to check up on Rose and Pepper who were on one of the private rooms Tony and Pepper had in the Tower (it’s not their official home, they said, but they liked having their own room here too). Steve knocked and opened the door, and smiled when he saw Rose wrapped in her blanket, asleep on the bed beside Pepper, who was sitting on the bed reading a book.

“Hey,” Pepper greeted quietly. “Meeting’s done?”

“Yeah, ended ten minutes ago,” Steve said, walking over to the bed to sit beside Rose’s sleeping form. “Pretty knocked out, huh?” He stroked her smooth brown wavy hair gently, leaning down to press a kiss on her forehead, which was still pretty warm.

“Fell asleep immediately after your meeting started, but not before I let her have some soup and medicine, of course,” Pepper said. “You’re off home?”

Steve shook his head. “Not yet,” he said softly. “If...if you wouldn’t mind. Nat’s coming up, she wanted to have lunch.”

Pepper grinned, her eyes sparkling with the same mischief her husband had. “Lunch date, huh?” she asked, and Steve chuckled quietly.

“Yeah, yeah, Tony said the same thing,” Steve said, waving his hand. “So is it alright? She’ll just be here for around one and a half hours, then she’ll be off.”

Pepper chuckled and nodded. “It’s fine, Tony’s gonna be here anyway,” she said. Steve’s phone alerted a new text message, and it was Natasha, saying that she’s in the Tower. Pepper grinned. “Go chase your girl, lover boy.”

Steve laughed softly. “Thanks, Pepper.” he said.

Natasha was apparently instructed to go straight up the private pantry, so when Steve reached there, the elevator door opened up and Natasha was there. He smiled when he saw her carrying two bags of Chinese takeout. “Couldn’t think of anything else,” she said sheepishly. “And I really wanted to see you.”

Steve laughed softly and took the bags of takeout before pressing a kiss on her cheek. “Couldn’t think of anything more perfect.” he said.

And so they had lunch in the private pantry, just the two of them. Natasha teased Steve about how he managed to close the entire pantry just because she was coming, and Steve blushed furiously. He gave a weak backfire about how she missed him which was why she asked for lunch, but Natasha laughed loudly.

“I don’t see how that’s a bad thing, Steve, unless you think it so?” she asked, smirking, but Steve shook his head quickly as he quickly chewed to finish his food. Natasha giggled.

“No, no, _ God _, no,” Steve said quickly. “No, I meant…” He blushed and smiled sheepishly. “Well, we never see each other during lunches ‘cause of work, let alone weekends ‘cause of Rose, so...it’s kinda new.”

“Hey,” Natasha said softly, reaching out across the table to take his hand in hers. Steve smiled. “You know I don’t mind, right? You spending your time with Rose?”

“I...I know,” Steve replied softly, smiling. “I just wish we can spend more time together, you know? Beyond text messages and calls and twice a week dinners.”

Natasha smiled. “Soon, Steve, I promise.” she said softly.

And they had a peaceful lunch, exchanging work stories. Steve recounted his story of how he found Rose practically shivering and whimpering in the morning when he woke her up, and how he had to rush out because of the emergency meeting Tony set up for the board. Natasha told him how one of the kids she usually takes care of in daycare—the one kid Natasha declared to Steve as her favorite student—Lila, painted her a beautiful butterfly. She showed him the artwork, one she kept in her bag, and Steve smiled when she saw it.

“It’s not a _ huge _ artwork or anything,” Natasha said softly. “She _ is _ a four-year-old kid, you know.”

“Yeah, but it _ is _ beautiful,” Steve affirmed, looking at the watercolor-painted butterfly. “She’ll be a talented artist when she grows up.”

Natasha smiled as she took the artwork back in her hands. “You think Rose will grow to be a talented artist too?” she asked softly, and Steve smiled widely, his heart fluttering in his chest at the mention of Rose from Natasha.

“I don’t know, really,” he answered softly. “I’m hoping to influence her with the love for art, and she kinda doodles, but she’s three, so it’s kinda hard to tell.” Natasha laughed softly. “Who knows, right? One of her parents could have been an artist, and maybe she inherited their talent.” He grinned. “I’ve thought about that too. Like what her parents were like, or _ are _ like, and if she could have gotten any of their talents. I mean, her dad could be an artist, or her mom could’ve been a...a ballerina.”

“A ballerina?” Natasha asked softly, chuckling slightly. Steve nodded.

“Yeah, I mean, if you think of Russia, it’s one of the things you think of: the Bolshoi dancers,” he said, and he shrugged. “Her mother would have been a Bolshoi dancer, for all we know.”

Natasha paused for a moment, and was about to say something when they heard small soft cries from outside growing louder, and then Pepper came in with a crying Rose in her arms. Steve stood up, and didn’t notice how Natasha froze in her seat at the sight of Rose. “Sorry to interrupt, Rose woke up crying, looking for you.” Pepper said. She looked at Natasha and smiled apologetically, but Natasha’s eyes were glued to Rose who is now in Steve’s arms.

“Hey, hey,” Steve soothed, rubbing Rose’s back with his hand. He moved his hand to run his fingers through her brown wavy hair, but the toddler still cried as she clung her arms around her father’s neck. “Hey, it’s okay, Daddy’s here. I’m here.”

Steve looked over at Pepper and smiled, still rubbing Rose’s back. “Thanks, Pep. I think I can take it from here.” he said softly. Pepper smiled and nodded.

“You call us if you need anything, alright? Sorry, have to get back, Tony’s asking me for something.” Pepper said, and Steve nodded.

“I think we’re good.” Steve said, and Pepper smiled. She gave one last smile at Natasha and Rose before leaving the pantry.

Rose didn’t stop crying, and Steve was trying his best to soothe her, make her feel better, but to no avail. “Hey, Rosie, tell me what’s wrong, please?” he asked. He laid the back of his hand on her forehead. “She’s not that warm anymore, but I don’t…”

Natasha stood up from her seat and carefully approached Steve who was still trying to calm Rose down. Steve saw her, and sighed. “I’m...I’m sorry. This isn’t supposed...this isn't how I imagined out lunch to be, or how I imagined you would meet Rose.” he said apologetically, but Natasha shook her head and gave him a small smile.

“I...may I?” Natasha asked tentatively, holding her hands out to Rose. Steve seemed surprised by this. She had been evading all opportunities of seeing or meeting Rose, and now she wanted to hold Rose? “I think...I think I know how to…” she trailed off.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve said softly. “Yes, please.” He laughed weakly. He pressed a kiss on the girl’s hair and carefully transferred her to Natasha’s arms. The girl didn’t seem to mind, let alone notice that she was in another’s arms, but she continued crying nonetheless.

Natasha adjusted the blanket wrapped around the girl, and Rose naturally laid her head on her shoulder as Natasha shushed her softly, bouncing her in her arms. Steve watched, and was in awe of the intimacy unfold between his lover and daughter. He watched as Natasha closed her eyes, and rubbed Rose’s back as the girl clung to her tightly, still crying and whimpering. He watched as Natasha positioned her head to rest on the girl’s, and how she started murmuring, _ humming, _ something Steve didn’t recognize to be a song he knew or was familiar with. He watched how Natasha ran her fingers through Rose’s brown wavy hair lovingly, smoothly, like it was the most natural thing in the world for her to do.

The time stretched on, and for a couple of minutes, it was all Natasha was doing, as if she was lost in the moment where it was just her and Rose. Steve watched as Rose started calming down in Natasha’s arms, as her tears subsided, and her cries turned to soft whimpers to small sniffles. He watched as Rose calmed down in Natasha’s arms, and how Natasha’s lips turned upwards. She opened her eyes and Steve saw that her eyes were glistening.

And there it was: the glint, so evident, and seen in her eyes.

Steve rested a hand on Rose’s back, and saw the girl had fallen asleep in Natasha’s arms. Natasha looked up at him then at Rose, and she blinked rapidly. “Here.” she said quietly, handing Rose back to Steve’s arms.

“You’re good with her, managed to calm her down,” Steve said, carefully carrying Rose in his arms. “How did you do that?”

Natasha paused, unable to keep her eyes off of Rose, her eyes still glistening with tears. But she managed to shake her head. “Daycare,” she answered, her voice cracking, but she cleared her throat and swallowed. “Daycare, some tips I picked from parents, and from taking care of kids.”

Steve nodded. “Well, you’re good, especially with Rose.” he said, smiling, but Natasha turned back and walked towards the table where they were before Pepper and Rose came in. “Hey, you’re off?”

“Yeah, yeah, I...I need to go back,” Natasha said, her back facing Steve as she fixed her things. Steve frowned and approached her cautiously. She slung her bag again on her shoulder and faced him.

But that’s when the tear slid down her face.

“Nat, is everything okay?” Steve asked, but Natasha quickly wiped the tear off and managed a smile at Steve, even if her eyes were filled with unshed tears.

“I’m fine,” Natasha answered. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?” She reached up to press a kiss on his cheek, and left quickly, and Steve was left alone in the pantry with Rose sleeping in his arms, confused as to what happened.

Steve and Rose went home immediately after, and Steve fed Rose and gave her some more of her medical syrup. “You feeling okay, little princess?” he asked the little girl who nodded as she looked at his father, her green eyes wide as she tilted her head to the side.

“Daddy, was that Nat?” she asked in a small voice, and Steve sighed, feeling his heart constrict at the memory of Natasha on the verge of tears earlier during their lunch. He didn’t even know what happened. Did it maybe trigger something that happened in her past when she was trying to calm Rose down? Maybe part of the reason why she didn’t want to meet her just yet?

“Yeah, baby,” Steve answered softly. “She’s the one who calmed you down when you were crying earlier.”

Rose hummed and twisted her mouth, as if contemplating, but the little girl didn’t say anything further on the matter.

He sent her text messages that same afternoon, but she didn’t respond in any of his texts, nor answered any of his calls. Steve spent the whole day going back and forth between making sure Rose’s fever had completely gone down, to playing and watching movies with her, and accomplishing some work he had to do from home. But while he kept himself busy, he couldn’t keep his mind off of Natasha, first at how naturally intimate she became with Rose, how she managed to naturally calm her down, and to how she eventually started to break down herself after doing so.

He couldn’t keep his mind off that intense glint in her eyes when she was holding Rose, and he couldn’t quite point the finger as to what it all meant. Maybe it _ did _ trigger something with her, something about her past and “almost” family with the man she loved before. Maybe meeting Rose was too soon for her, as maybe there was some wound there that was not yet completely healed, poked further by the presence of Rose in her arms.

And it was driving Steve crazy, catalyzed further by the fact that Natasha wasn’t responding to him.

By evening, when Rose and Steve were having dinner, Rose looked up at her father and asked, “Daddy, do you like Nat?”

Steve sighed, and gave the little girl a small smile. “Yeah, Rosie, I do.” he answered softly.

“Will Nat be my Mommy?” she asked softly, and Steve chuckled quietly. She’d been trying to tell Steve how much she needed a Mommy, and even tried setting her up with one of the other single women in her daycare center. His little girl.

“Do you want her to?” he asked, and Rose smiled and nodded enthusiastically. Steve laughed softly. “Why’d you say that?” he asked softly.

“She sings like Ariel,” Rose responded, smiling. “And her songs are pretty too.” The little girl frowns slightly. “But I can’t understand them, it’s like Nat is singing in alien.”

Steve furrowed his brows. “What do you mean she was singing in alien?” he asked, frowning slightly.

“I can’t understand her song, Daddy,” Rose answered. “But it’s pretty, and she sings good, and it made me fall asleep, right?”

Steve blinked. “Do you remember the song she was singing?” he asked.

“No,” Rose answered, and she went back to poking her nuggets on her plate. “But I want her to be my Mommy, so she can sing those kinds of songs too. Even if I don’t understand them.”

She doesn’t understand the songs? What does that mean? But Steve didn’t push further, because he thought maybe it was because Rose was crying, and the sounds were muffled in her ears, so she can make out the melody but not the words. Plus, she_ was _ really sick.

While he allowed Rose to watch another episode of cartoons, he pulled his phone out, and saw that Natasha, still, hadn’t replied nor responded to any of his messages or calls. He decided to send one to perhaps make her feel a bit lighter, a bit better.

_ Rose just said your voice sounded like Ariel. Must be a really good singer, huh? _

Still no response. Even as he bathed Rose and prepared her for bed, she hadn’t replied. But after Steve tucked Rose in bed, and kissed her good night, he received a response.

_ You think Rose is gonna be a good singer someday? _

Steve smiled, and felt a weight from his chest get lifted. He texted a reply, _ Only if you teach her, she might. _

Steve immediately got a response. _ Downstairs. Open up to your floor, please? _

He heard his doorbell buzz, and immediately rushed over to press the button to allow entry to the apartment building. In no time, he heard a knock on the door, and when he opened it, he saw Natasha, wrapped in her long coat, dressed in a grey shirt and jeans, her red hair tied to a messy bun. Her cheeks are red, probably from the cold outside and her green eyes red-rimmed—

_ Green eyes? _

“Can I come in?” she asked quietly, and Steve stepped aside almost automatically, mechanically. He was stunned, confused, unable to think of anything else beyond the fact that…

There was something different about Natasha, and it’s not just because of his own familiarity with her.

Steve closed the door behind him and led her to the dining area. Natasha sighed and put her bag down on the table. He cleared the dirty plates, and offered to brew her coffee or tea, but she didn’t want to have any. He asked if she had dinner, she said she did.

She asked him to sit down across her, and he did. He watched as she clasped her hands together and rested it on the table. He looked up at her and there he saw it—something different about her.

“I’m ready.” she said softly. Steve blinked.

“Ready for what?” he asked dumbly, and Natasha sighed.

“Is Rose asleep?” she asked, and Steve nodded. “Okay.”

“Nat, what’s going on?” Steve asked quietly, and Natasha pursed her lips.

“Five years ago, I met a man. His name is...was James, James Buchanan Barnes,” she started softly. Steve blinked, realizing where this might be going. “He was in the army, serving in Kazakhstan during that time. He was in Saykhin, a small village border of western Kazakhstan and Russia.” Steve held his breath. “I, on the other hand, lived in Volgograd...in Russia.”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat, and he felt his heart hammer inside his chest, as he continued to look at Natasha’s green, _ deep _ green eyes, familiar deep green eyes close to jade. He felt his chest constrict, his heart ache, but he nodded for Natasha to continue.

“I was young, twenty-one, and he was twenty-three. We met because he and his troops chanced upon in El’ton, where I...where I was, and to make a long story short, he and I became together. This American soldier who was born and raised in Long Island in New York, and a Russian girl born and raised in Volgograd, became together,” she said, smiling sadly. “And we figured it would be easy, _ might _ be easy, since he was just by the border, and he could just come and go, sneaking in anytime he wanted.”

Natasha took a deep breath. “I didn’t have a family. My parents died when I was very young, and I was raised in a foster home, got out of it when I was eighteen. I lived my life as a dancer, performing in small theaters all over Russia when I hitched myself in one of the small ballet companies they had, hoping someday I’d be part of the Bolshoi,” she said, and Steve gulped, hearing the blood rushing in his head.

_ Her mother would have been a Bolshoi dancer, for all we know. _

“But my first taste of freedom, the _ real _ type of freedom I’ve ever really experienced was whenever I was with James,” she said, and then she smiled. “We wouldn’t see each other much because he had his own duties, and I had to work, but when we do, he would always make it a point to give me roses. One by one, never a bouquet.”

_ It's probably the first flower the father gave to the mother, or something like that. _

Natasha’s eyes started filling with tears as Steve’s eyes started to widen at the slow realization, but he didn’t let his emotions overcome him, nor his assumptions get the best of him. No, he was going to be level-headed, he was going to be patient. Like she asked him to be.

“Eventually, he told me he was going to be transferred to Syria. Him and his troop,” she continued. “We spent a night together, and it’s the first time we did. I woke up the following morning, he was gone, and all I ever had was a rose beside my bed. A month after, I found out I was pregnant, so I couldn’t dance, and was laid off from the company.” Her lips turned downwards and a tear escaped, but she wiped it quickly. “I still had the home I was living in, since it was my family’s, they said, but the government eventually got it. So I lived in the streets.”

Steve couldn’t imagine what Natasha might have gone through, let alone even begin to _ believe _ it was true. But as he looked at her eyes, he can see what she said about her James telling her about the glint. Her green eyes, as Steve looked, conveyed the truth, sincerity, sadness from the past she lived through, and the regrets and mistakes she made. He was waiting for something, he was waiting for _ it, _ the bomb that he never knew would come, but always asked for it anyway.

Contrary to what he thought he believed in, he wasn’t ready for it. Especially not now.

“Lived off pickpocketing and begging like a street rat,” Natasha said, letting out a bitter chuckle. “Fed off leftovers, but sometimes I would raise enough or steal enough to buy good food, anything...anything so I can feed the baby, I said. About...in my sixth month, James’ troop came back in, and they...they told me he was missing, kidnapped, and they couldn’t find him.”

Natasha took a shaky breath. “They helped in giving shelter, sustaining. They found me in the streets, knew I was carrying James’ child, so they helped as much as they can without making it too obvious,” she said. “They stayed, even until I gave birth, they stayed, especially one of James’ closest comrades, Clint, he helped a whole lot. He was the one who brought me to the hospital, the one who bought me the pink blanket I wrapped her around with.” She smiled and looked up at Steve. “In one of the corners, there’s the Russian translation of her name there. Clint gave it...he was the one who gave it.”

A tear escaped Natasha’s eyes and she sighed. “She was born February 5, on one cold morning,” she said softly. “And I named her Rose, my little Rose.” She smiled sadly, but it turned into a frown as the tears continued to spill, and Steve felt his heart drop as he took a deep breath, burying his face in his hands.

He imagined it would be different, he guessed, meeting Rose’s parents. He imagined it would be casual, maybe involving a bit of crying, but he imagined it would all be fine in the end. He imagined he would get closure, proper and peaceful closure, packed with new knowledge about his daughter’s past and origins.

But he never imagined it to be like this. He never imagined he would meet Rose’s mother like this, for her to be his significant other, the woman he happened to admire and like enough to be a romantic partner. He never imagined Rose’s mother would be Natasha—someone who became fond of listening to stories about Rose, grew patient with Steve when he had questions about Rose’s past. He was blind through all of it, didn’t know that he had all the answers all along to all the questions he had about Rose.

_ “If the question was why...why she was left in a manner such as how you said it, I don’t think it’s a question of whether the parents loved her or not. They most probably did,” _ He recalled her saying it. _ “The mother who left her most probably did. But love’s probably not enough to raise a child, you know? Especially when they want her to grow up to be...be strong and wonderful, like you raised her to be. In cases like these, love’s not enough, probably, but it was enough to allow the parents to let her go.” _

_ “You think she was loved before I found her?” _

_ “She was. And she probably still is.” _

_ She was, and probably still is loved. _

It was too much, that he stood up, the sudden action of which made Natasha wince. Steve buried his face in his hands, feeling the room clamp and tighten, the atmosphere tense and really warm. No, he didn’t think he was able to think straight. He _ couldn’t _ think straight, especially not after this, not after this revelation.

But he had one question, one burning question. “What made you want to abandon her?” he asked lowly. “In a basket, out in the cold in a park in Moscow?”

Natasha took a shaky breath, and looked up at Steve, and he saw it. He saw the striking resemblance between her and Rose: from the eyes, the nose and cheekbones, and the way their hair is naturally wavy. Rose was beautiful, captivating in every sense, and it was because her mother was all of those.

“They declared James dead days after Rose was born. His body was found, and because of that the troops left too,” Natasha continued softly. “And I went back to being a street rat, only this time I was with a baby.” She paused and sighed. “A month later, I was out of milk, and I was broke, and the shelter I lived in was also taken away. My life was no life for a child, Steve, and I wanted...I _ wanted _ so bad to raise her, let her grow up to be someone better than me, someone better than who I was.” She sniffled, and wiped the tears away. “Foster homes weren’t an option, not in Volgograd, not where I lived in. I traveled to Moscow for my last Hail Mary, hoping I could at least find a job, and I can raise her there.”

Natasha chuckled bitterly. “But life has a weird way of letting you know you fucked up, you know,” she said. “Some old woman in Volgograd reported how I was secretly meeting up with the American troops. The next thing I know, they were accusing me of being a spy of the SVR because of my ‘affiliation’ with the American army. It was how they managed to take away the shelter I had in Volgograd, because they were on my trail already. I went on the run.” She shook her head. “And I needed to keep her safe, so that’s what I did.”

“By leaving her in a basket in a park?” Steve asked.

“What, do you think life in prison is gonna be good for her?” she asked, and Steve stayed silent.

“I left her one morning before dawn, scribbled a note, asking to whoever would see her to take care of her, to name her Rose, and to tell her I’m sorry,” Her eyes started filling with tears and her bottom lip quivered. “She was crying that morning, but she was never a difficult baby, anyway. So I held her, and I sang to her, until she fell asleep. And then I surrendered to the officers trailing behind. I think that was also when you found her.”

But Steve still felt his heart drop at the mention of the lullaby. “The song…” he whispered, and Natasha nodded.

“It always made her fall asleep when she was a baby, but then again, she was only a month old, and it’s not like she’d heard the song in three years, so it was kind of a long shot,” she said quietly. “But like I said, she's not really a difficult baby.”

Steve took a deep breath, and he huffed. He was feeling everything, _ absolutely _ everything, from deep sadness to regret to anger. He felt for Natasha, he really did, and with the story she told him. He felt her regret, that her leaving Rose alone in the park was a mistake that, albeit necessary for her at that time, could have been avoided. But he felt anger; anger because the universe separated Natasha and Rose, put them both in difficult situations, anger at the fact that Natasha wasn’t taken care of despite how good she tried to be, or how loved she just wanted to be.

But perhaps he was also angry at the fact that Natasha lied.

“When did you know?” he asked. He ran a hand over his face and shook his head as he looked at Natasha. “When did you know who she was?”

Natasha sighed. “That night we had dinner and you showed me a photo of her,” she said. “I had my suspicions, of course when you said her name, and how you adopted her from Russia, but I didn’t...I didn’t want to believe it. But when you showed me her face, and then you told me _ how _ you found her...that’s when I knew.”

_ That seemed so long ago. _“You didn’t tell me,” Steve accused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Natasha whimpered. “Because I didn’t want you to think that I was getting close to you so I can get to Rose,” she admitted. “I wanted you to feel that I liked being with you, just _ you. _ And once again, I wanted to _ feel _ what it’s like to be with someone who liked me for who I am.”

Steve shook his head and took a deep breath. “You should’ve told me,” he said lowly. “You should’ve told me. All those times I wondered aloud about Rose’s parents, you should’ve _ said _ something.”

“It’s not that simple, Steve!” Natasha exclaimed, tears pouring down her face. “It hurts thinking about what happened, it hurts thinking about what I did. I felt back then it was necessary, even when it hurts me, I _ had _ to do it!”

“And then what happened?” Steve asked, tears filling in his own eyes as well. “What happened? Huh, did you even try to look for her? Is that how you got in America, _why_ you came here? Because you tracked her down here, and—”

“Is that really what you think of me?” Natasha asked him incredulously, her voice dangerously low as she narrowed her eyes at him. “That all my agenda for getting to know you is so I can take her away from you?”

“Can you really blame me for thinking that?” Steve shot back. He’s livid, angry, but he still took a deep breath in an attempt to even his emotions and voice. “What are you doing here? How did you get to America?”

Natasha licked her lips and pursed it together as she took a deep breath. She told him how she was released three months after, when James’ troops were taken in for investigation and they learned how she was accused of being a spy for them. They pushed for an investigation, pooled in money to bail her out. She then found herself back in a ballet theatre in Moscow after a co-dancer of hers saw her, but left halfway through the first tour, as Clint Barton found her and brought her to America.

She told him how Rebecca Barnes, James’ younger sister, had been the one to ask as well that James’ troop bring her back to America. Apparently she knew about Natasha, knew how much she meant to James through the letters and the stories James’ friend told her. She told him how Rebecca also knew about Rose, and how forgiving and understanding she was of why she did whatever she did. She got a job in Long Island, pooled some money for a whole year, and moved out to Manhattan.

“Clint’s wife, Laura, she owns the place, and she offered me a spot and a space to live in.” She smiled sadly. “It’s kind of a way for them to look after me, but it’s not like I minded. Besides, who was I to deny the free space and job, right?”

Natasha then looked away, her eyes glassy and filling with tears. “I looked for her,” she continues softly. “When I was released, I looked. I tried to pull some strings in the agencies so I can look in foster homes and adoption agencies in Moscow and Volgograd, but the information was difficult to retrieve, so I never found her. Even when I got in America a year later, I never stopped, never stopped trying.”

Steve continued to watch her, his gaze softening as he watched a few tears fall from her eyes, and her bottom lip quivering as she wiped away the tears with the sleeve of her jacket. Her voice cracked, and Steve’s heart clenched. “And when I got the job there...every time a little girl with brown hair would come in, I would always hope that it was her, and I thought…” She shrugged. “I thought if I couldn’t watch over her, take care of her as a mother, I still can as a teacher, right? And I can watch her grow even if it was just from afar, even if it was just for a few years.”

It made sense, and it’s all starting to make sense even more. Everything that she allowed him to see about her, to know about her started to make sense. “You changed your eye color,” he pointed out quietly. “It was blue when we first met, but...but it’s really green.” Green like his daughter’s, like _ her _ daughter’s.

She looked back at him, her green eyes wide and raw as she looked. “Every time I’d look at myself in the mirror, and then I’d see my eyes, I’d be reminded of her,” she answered quietly. “I thought I’d at least keep myself sane, try to forget about her once in a while by changing it.” She sighed shakily and nods. “It's silly, really. But it helps in easing the pain, and it works, _ worked, _ I guess.”

But Steve’s anger didn’t dissipate, as it just flared up even more. “It seemed pretty simple for you to leave her like that, huh? And forget her like that?” he shot back. “So easy, and painless, so selfish and cruel. What kind of mother does that? What kind of mother _ thinks _ that?”

And the hurt seen in Natasha’s face made Steve immediately regret what he just said. He didn’t mean it, he really didn’t. But he was mad, and he felt betrayed and lied to. All along, she knew, and she never said anything. She allowed him to say negative things about Rose’s parents leaving her, not knowing all along that he was talking about her. She let him talk badly about her, and never said a word against it.

_ She left her daughter. _ It was all he can focus on, despite listening and hearing her side of the story. _ She left her daughter in a selfish attempt to protect herself. _ He knew it was wrong, a small voice told him it was wrong to think that, but right then, the anger welling up inside of him was too strong to be pushed down.

And in hindsight, maybe he should’ve took into consideration the fact that the hurt she experienced wasn’t really just because of the words he said, but because _ this _ was the wound she was healing from, the wound she did her best to open to Steve, pleaded with him to be patient with her while she was healing. To an extent, he also betrayed her, turned his back away from her when all she was asking for was his help, his help, his patience, his understanding, and maybe, his love.

When he realized it, though, and when the anger quickly dissipated to the point that he can think more straight now, it was too late.

She looked away momentarily, and Steve became silent. He watched as more tears fell from her eyes, and he felt his whole body numb, all of his sensations focusing on the guilt now building up in his chest. What had he done? What had he said? She clenched her jaw as she looked back at him. “I’m sorry you saw it that way,” she said quietly. She then stood up and grabbed her bag. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and took a deep breath. “Thank you for taking her in, and taking care of her.”

“Nat…”

“You’re right,” she added quietly. “It _ was _ easy for me, hm? So easy for me to walk away and just leave her be.” But her face scrunched as more tears fell. “I wish it was, Steve. I really wish it was as easy, and as painless as you said it to be. But I also want you to know that it’s not. And if I could go back to redo all of those, I would, and we probably wouldn’t be here.” Her expression turned stoic. “We probably wouldn’t have met, probably for the better, right?”

He was about to say something, apologize, stop her from leaving, tell her he was wrong, _ she _ was wrong with how she understood him, but then she was gone.

* * *

He doesn’t see her for a week.

He didn’t even make an attempt to leave a text, or a call. When Natasha left, he took a moment to himself to process the information she told him, to process the connection between his daughter and his lover. He took a moment to process all the things she said, and all the things he responded, and how wrong he handled the situation. He went in Rose’s room, then, and as he watched her sleep, he saw it more—the resemblance they had, the beauty they shared, the traits Steve had always wondered where it came from, but apparently came from someone close to him all along. He took the pink blanket she’s always had, and there he found it—Russian characters, embroidered in gold thread: Роза, _ Russian for Rose, _ she had said.

He spent the rest of the evening looking for her on the Internet. It turns out, Natasha (her Russian name was Natalia) was indeed falsely accused of being part of the Illegals Program. She was imprisoned for a few months, and was released on bail by a group of veterans. The news headlines, translated from Russian, proved her story to be true: that someone from Volgograd had framed her for being a spy when she saw her interacting with some of the American army troops stationed in Kazakhstan during that time. A photo of the five accused army men were shown as well in another news headline, with their names written on the caption below their photos.

He stared at the photo of one Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes, who, according to the news, was killed in action when he was assigned to Syria. James Barnes was a handsome man: a good-looking young man with captivating baby blue eyes, chiseled jaw and brown hair slicked back in the photo.

The brown hair that mirrored Rose's, the only thing she got from her father.

And it turned out, as Steve dug deeper into the past of Natalia Romanova, she was indeed part of a ballet company in Moscow for a few months, had joined them for a few shows in their tours, as seen in the minimal amount of photos it had on their website, but the photos of her was gone after a few show photos he scrolled by. He found that she was indeed also part of a small ballet company based on Volgograd, one that disbanded two years ago, but their site and their photos stayed in the Internet, the majority of which were solo photos of a younger Natasha dancing—Natasha who looked a lot more like Rose, only with red hair, and he wondered if Rose was going to look like that when she grows up.

She’ll be so beautiful.

Steve thought piecing the past for her daughter would be something he’ll do out of love; something he’ll do to be able to understand the circumstances Rose was in before he found her, understand how she got there, what her name meant for where she came from. But now he understood it, he found it difficult to accept it. He found it difficult to accept that her mother had gone through what she went through: a painfully heartbreaking loss, deep poverty and injustice. He found it difficult to look at Rose without seeing Natasha, how her eyes had been green all this time, green like her daughter’s, and that she changed the colors simply to conceal the semblance that was so easily noticeable once you look at them, conceal the regret and past until she could share it enough so she can move forward and forgive herself.

Because as much as he thought it otherwise, she wasn’t cruel nor was she selfish. She was just a mother who wanted what was best for her daughter, and did what she thought was right. She did what she thought what was best in a rather difficult situation: she hoped.

And he pushed her away, betrayed her unknowingly when he accused her of how easily she gave her baby up, knowing fully well it wasn’t. Because Natasha isn’t like that. Natasha, or Natalia, has always been loving, brave and intelligent, and he admired her—_ admires _ her, still, for that.

Sam visits one night the following week when he mentioned Maria would be out of town for work. He plays with Rose while Steve cooks, and they have dinner. Sam plays with Rose, and Steve eventually tucks Rose back in bed. He takes the time to tell her how much he loves her, and to have sweet dreams tonight.

Maybe that was a good thing that came out of the revelation Natasha made—he did appreciate Rose more, loved her more, for being born into the world by a strong and loving mother. He figures it would make Rose strong and loving as well, having survived the things Natasha survived too.

And when he comes out to the living room, Sam is already opening up beer bottles. He hands him one. “No Nat for tonight?” he asks, flopping down on the couch beside Steve.

And Steve tells him. Steve tells Sam about everything, from the hints Natasha had dropped, to the advices she gave him about Rose, to her initial refusal to meet her, to how she asked him to wait for her to be ready, to how she managed to calm Rose down the first time she met her and to the things she told him. Steve tells Sam about the past she lied about, and the past she revealed to him. He tells him about Natasha as Natalia, orphaned at a very young age and was raised in a foster home, and how, once upon a time, she was just a young girl in Volgograd who wanted to dance for the Bolshoi. He tells him about Sgt. James Barnes who was killed in action in Syria, a fact he had checked on the Internet as well. He tells him about the life she lived, and the fate that ended her up in jail, falsely accused as a spy, but in reality was just a mother who wanted a good life for her daughter.

He told him about how Natasha had got in America, and their argument that followed afterwards. He told him about the words he said, and how he regretted all of it. He told him about the hurt he saw on Natasha’s face, and how she left immediately, crying as she walked out of his apartment.

“Damn, man,” Sam says quietly, shaking his head. “I...and what happened after?”

“I was mad,” Steve admits softly. “I was...I was feeling all sorts of things, but what I knew for sure was that I felt mad because she didn’t tell me anything, never told me from the start about who she is. She let us go far without...without telling me any of these.”

Sam pauses for a moment to contemplate. “Well, I mean it’s not something that’s easy to admit, you know,” he says. “Abandoning your daughter in a park because you were falsely arrested is not exactly something to be proud of.”

“She didn’t trust me enough, Sam,” Steve says, sighing. “That’s the thing, she didn’t trust me.”

“You think someone who just gone through hell would easily trust someone with her story like that?” Sam asks, and shakes his head. “I doubt even Maria knows about this.”

Steve shakes his head and gulps his beer. “I told her how easy it was for her to give Rose up,” he admits quietly. “And I didn’t...I didn’t mean it. But she got hurt, and she left, and I never heard from her again.”

Sam chuckles bitterly. “You really think the way she gave Rose up was easy for her?” he asks. “She probably prayed endlessly for her daughter to be found by a good person and raised her well, raised her the way she wanted to. She got it, got the prayer fulfilled, but unfortunately the prayer accused her of making it too easy even if it clearly wasn’t.”

And Steve supposes it made sense now: her choice to be a daycare teacher, spending her days taking care of children because she could never take care of her own, her refusal to meet Rose ever since he showed her photos of Rose. She recognized her from that point, recognized those eyes they shared, the brown hair her lover had, and the name she asked for whoever will find her will give her. She wanted to tell him, which was why she asked him to be patient, to _ wait _until she was ready to move forward from the past that haunted her, and fully accept it and own it. She never wanted to hold her when she saw her for the first time in three years, but her heart tugged her in soothing her daughter down, singing her the lullaby she sang the day she left her in the park. It was a song that haunted her, something she never thought she would sing and would work, but it did.

And when she was ready to open up, to accept the past and own it so she can move forward, he blew the chance for her.

“What do I do?” Steve asks, looking at his best friend. “What do I do, Sam?”

“What do you want to do?” Sam asks. “As the _ legal _ parent of her biological daughter, and as Nat’s significant other? What do you want to do?”

Steve wants to let Natasha get to know Rose, of course, but a part of him couldn’t help but feel used. She said it otherwise, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was getting used—that the only reason she got so close to him is that so she can get to Rose. He knows Natasha wouldn’t do that, and that all the time they spent with each other were all sincere and out of Natasha’s good heart and free will, but he figured he couldn’t blame himself for thinking that? She still lied about who she was, and while he knew and confirmed her story to be true, he can’t help but think what other things has she lied about?

But it seemed that Sam had the answer he was looking for. “If it makes you feel better,” he says. “Maria tells me how Nat talks about you a lot. If you’re questioning which parts of the Natasha we all know is real, then I’m telling you man, the person...the _ Natasha _ who’s a friend of Maria’s, a friend of mine, the Natasha who liked you, even probably loved you, she was real. She _ is _ real, as real as the mother you witnessed last week when she soothed Rose back to sleep, and as real as the Natalia you read about in the Internet: whether it be a framed criminal or former Bolshoi dancer.”

Sam takes another swig from his beer. “The question is: can you handle how real she’s starting to become?” he asks. “Can you still handle it, as you continue to learn more and more about her truth?”

And it made Steve think.

The following day, he takes off from the Tower during lunchtime, promising Tony to be back quickly. “Can you pick Rose up from daycare today?” he asks Tony. “Please? And tell her I’ll be back, and I _ will. _”

“Where are you going?” Tony asks, and Steve sighs.

“Just gotta fix something really quick,” he answers quietly. “Rose in daycare, okay? I’ll be back.”

“Got it, Rogers.”

So he takes his car and drives. His heart is hammering in his chest, loud enough that he can hear his heart pounding in his ears. When he reaches his destination, he parks, and turns the engine off.

He steps out of his car when he sees kids leaving the building, and he sees her. She kneels down in front of a young blonde girl and talks to her, her smile still unwavering as he watches the girl nod and giggle. The girl throws her arms around her neck for an embrace, and Natasha embraces her back, closing her eyes as she presses the girl closer to her. She waves when the little girl pulls back and runs to one of the women waiting by the staircase. The woman waves, and Natasha smiles and waves, and when the pair turns, Natasha sighs and her smile fades.

She turns, and then she sees him. And even from afar, he can tell that she never did put her colored contacts back on. Her eyes are her natural jade ones, the ones she gave Rose, and the ones that convey raw emotion so easily that Steve can easily see it even from afar.

And all he sees is the absence of the blissful glint he grew familiar with, and instead saw the glint of sadness, longing.

She sighs, pulling the sleeves of her white sweater down and crosses her arms over her chest. The wind blows, and her eyes squint as some of her hair fly on her face, and she lifts a hand to brush off the hair on her face. As she does, he notices the sun reflect on something dangling from her neck, like a necklace, a silver thing reflecting on her chest area.

Army dog tags. He's never noticed it before.

He follows her as she turns back and walks inside the building. He ends up following her to the small field behind the daycare center, where she is already sitting on one of the benches facing the field, her arms crossed over her chest and her back resting against the wall of the building. He sits beside her, but her eyes never leave as they stare blankly at the field in front of them.

They stay like that for a while, silent, as both of them stare at the field for some time. Until Steve then purses his lips and sighs as he looks at her. "I've never noticed those before," he starts quietly, and she looks up at him questioningly. "The dog tags."

She furrows her eyebrows slightly, and she looks down at her chest, to where the dog tags are showing. "Oh," she says softly in realization, as one of her hand moves to touch the tags. "Yeah, it's...it was James'," she tells him quietly, as she brushes her thumb over one of the plates. "I've always had it, wore it under sweaters and shirts." She lets go of the tags and then shrugs, looking back at the field. "Just never found the need to hide them now."

_She's had them for the entire eight months he knew her, and for the three months was courting her. _But Steve ducks his head and he pauses, thinking about his next questions carefully. "Do you still think about him? Y-you know, every now and then?" he asks lamely, quietly. Natasha takes a deep breath and huffs out a slow breath.

"Sometimes," she answers softly, nodding her head a bit. "Bouts of memories mostly, and it's not like I have anything much about him to begin with, except for the tags." Her hand lifts to touch one of the plates again, her fingers brushing over the engravings on the silver plates, but her eyes never leave the field. "It's mostly...mostly just how he looked like—his face, his eyes." She rests her head back on the wall as she takes another deep breath. "They're baby blue, beautiful. Not really easy to forget."

Steve's mind immediately goes back to the photo he saw of James Barnes: brown hair, baby blue eyes wearing his navy blue uniform. "I saw," he admits quietly, and Natasha looks at him. "I saw what he looked like. In the Internet, when I...when I searched for him."

"Him?" Natasha asks quietly, raising an eyebrow slightly, and Steve sighs.

"You," he corrects quietly. "I saw...I saw everything, the arrest, the ballet companies, and...and James."

Natasha nods slowly and looks back at the field. Steve watches her as she takes another deep breath and shrugs. "It was a long time ago," she says, and then she furrows her eyebrows. "Or it _seemed_ like a long time ago, like a past life."

A past life that she was trying to escape, but couldn't, no matter what she does or how she does it. A past life she did her best to forget, in hopes of forgiving herself for the mistakes she committed in said past life. Natasha shakes her head. "No big deal, it's all in the past." she adds quietly.

But Steve doesn't believe so. Not when he sees the glint of longing so raw in her eyes, the glint of sadness that makes his heart break as he watches it grow, contradicting every word she says about James, Rose and her life in Russia being a past life. It may be part of the past she left behind, but it was a past she can never imagine running away from, as it was a kind of life she can ever had that was close to having a family. And she loved them, loved her family, loved the memory and thought of it, no matter how much pain it brings her. “Do you still have to work? After...after this, d’you have to go back?” he asks.

Natasha shakes her head and sighs. “I had someone else fill in for me,” she answers quietly. “I’m going back home.”

“Why?” he asks, and Natasha shrugs.

“Haven’t exactly been feeling well for some time,” she responds, nonchalantly, and shakes her head. “Again, no big deal, really.”

It’s been a week, a week since she saw Rose, a week since she admitted to him who she really is, and a week since they fought, and yet he can still see the remnants of the pain the night—and the four difficult years she had—brought on her. This woman had lost everything—her parents, her chance to fulfill a dream, the love of her life, her only family left; her chance at love and her chance at having a family. That night, that fateful night when she decided to open up, she probably felt that she had lost more just when she started to get back at her footing.

She might have felt like she lost him too, one of the closest friends she ever had, a semblance of the love she had lost all those years ago.

“Come on,” Steve says, standing up, and Natasha stands as well, looking at him in confusion. “Tony probably picked Rose up from daycare, and I told him to tell her I’d be there quickly.”

Natasha frowns and shakes her head. “Steve…” she whispers, tears filling in her eyes as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“And you have nothing else to do, and you’re free to go, right?” he continues softly, extending a hand to her. “So come on, we can grab lunch on the way, and we can have lunch in the private pantry—you, me and Rose.”

Natasha look at his extended hand and shakes her head as the tears start to flow. She takes a shaky breath. “Steve, what are you doing?” she whispers, and she attempts to wipe the tears falling from her eyes, but the tears still continue to fall.

And it hurt Steve, it hurt him seeing her like this. Before he knew who she was, who she _ really _ was, he promised her he’ll be patient, and he’d wait. Before he knew who she really was, he admired her, liked her so much to an extent he thought he may have been in love with her. He liked her—loved her—for her passion, intelligence, beauty and wit. He liked her for her heart, for the sparkle in her eyes and her patience. She was all that before he learned about who she was because that’s really who she _ is. _ She is still all of that even as she told him the truth, it was just that there was _ more _ to her than all of those, that of which just made her stronger, more loving and more beautiful than he already knew her to be.

Who was he to look at her any differently?

“I’m making it up,” he whispers, his eyes softening as he gives Natasha a small smile. “The lost time you had with Rose...the things I said, I’m making it up to you.”

Natasha whimpers as she conceals a sob, and she shakes her head, but Steve walks closer to her, resting his hands on her shoulders. She is shaking under his touch, and he moves his hands to rest on either side of her face, his thumbs brushing away the tears dropping from her eyes. 

“Let me make it up,” Steve pleads softly. “Make it up for you and Rose, make it up to _ you. _”

Natasha lets out a soft sob, and Steve tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “You shouldn’t,” she sobs softly, shaking her head. “Y-you shouldn’t. I lied—”

“I don’t care,” Steve whispers, pulling himself closer. “I don’t care.” He smiles sadly, and brushes his thumbs on her cheeks as she looks up at him with wide green eyes filled with tears. “I just want what’s best for my girls—my best girls.”

And he means it, every word of it. As Natasha looks up at him, she lets out her sobs, and cries harder. “I’m sorry,” she sobs, and Steve pulls her in, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as she buries her face on his chest, sobbing and clinging on his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, and presses his lips on her forehead. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, too. I’m _ so _ sorry, Nat.”

He’s sorry for the things he said, for the cruelty of this world, and for the things she didn’t deserve to go through. It felt right, because though she deserved the whole universe to apologize to her for having such a cruel life and a cruel fate, he knew the universe was still as merciless as that that it won't even try. So he’ll try to do it instead. He’ll try to do apologize over and over again, in an attempt to lighten the load, to ease her guilt and lighten her misery even just a little bit, as much as he can.

Natasha continues to cry, and he continues to hold her, whispering over and over that it’s okay, alternating between pressing kisses on her face and rubbing her back gently. She wraps her arms around his neck, sobbing in the crook of his neck. Steve holds her, and presses a kiss on the side of her head.

And they stay like that for a while, as Steve patiently waits until she calms in his arms, her cries turning to sniffles and soft whimpers. He pulls away slightly, his arms still wrapped around her waist, and he gives her a smile. She sighs, and he lifts a hand to run through her scarlet wavy hair, landing to rest her hand on her cheek. He brushes her cheek with his thumb gently.

“Go get your things, and then we’ll grab lunch,” Steve says softly. “We’ll bring lunch, and then we’ll eat in the pantry—just you, me and Rose. And then you can get to hold her, and feed her, like how you should, like how you wanted to.”

Natasha sighs as she rubs her eyes with her hands. “I look like a mess, Steve.” _ I am a mess, _ is the silent addendum. _ I’m a mess and you know it. _

But Steve shakes his head. “No, you don’t,” he answers, and smiles. “You’re beautiful. Always have been.”

Natasha lets out a huff and chuckles softly, and Steve grins, leaning closer to press a kiss on her forehead. “Come on,” he says softly, his hand traveling down to intertwine his fingers with hers. “Let’s go get your stuff.”

Steve drives them to the Tower while Natasha just watches the window. She doesn’t say anything, not even a word, and she fumbles with her fingers as if nervously, her hand clasped on her lap. Steve reaches for her hand, and she looks up at him. He gives her a smile as he intertwines their fingers, resting their joint hands on the gear stick. Natasha gives him a small smile and continues to look outside.

“Hey, if you want,” Steve says softly. “We can grab a quick bite, get some takeout for Rose, and we can all just go home. I can talk to Tony, I’ll just say there’s...there’s an emergency, something I need to fix, but we can just go back to my place.”

Natasha then looks at Steve, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Your place?” she repeats quietly, and Steve nods.

“Part of what I wanted to do, really, as part of the whole ‘quest-to-learn-more-about-Rose’s-past’ thing,” he says softly. “Is to allow her to reconnect with it too, as much as she can. ‘Cause she’ll have questions, and I want her to learn more about herself even at a young age.” He then looks at Natasha. “I want her to get to know you, and you to get to know her.” He smirks as he looks back at the road. “I _ was _ planning to introduce you to each other anyway, right?”

Natasha’s gaze softens, and Steve smiles. “Besides, she _ really _ needs a Mommy. She’s trying to set me up with random women in her daycare for dates, hoping one of them could be her Mommy,” he says, chuckling, and Steve looks back at her. “But there’s only one woman I want to date, and she happens to be her mother, anyway.”

Natasha smiles, as tears gather in her eyes. She squeezes his hand lightly. “You’re a good man, Steve.” she whispers, and Steve’s smile fades slightly.

He thinks about the things he said, the things he thought about her, and the things he told her especially during _that_ night. “No, not really, no,” he says quietly. “But you’re the only one who understands that.”

They end up getting a quick lunch at McDonald's, because Steve figures Rose would want some chicken nuggets, fries and sundae for takeout. They eat silently beside each other in a booth in the far end corner of the place, with Natasha’s head leaning on Steve’s shoulder as he rests his head on hers. After eating, they take a few more minutes just for themselves, where Steve wraps an arm around Natasha and presses a kiss on the side of her head as Natasha closes her eyes and cuddles closely to Steve, a small content smile on her face as she does so, cherishing this moment they have, cherishing the man she is with, the man who happens to have so much love for her daughter, and managed to have some more for her too.

Steve hopes that she feels safe with him, hopes that he is deserving of her, after everything she had gone through.

They drive by the Tower, and by the time they do, Tony and Rose are waiting for them by the entrance. Rose waves excitedly at them, and Natasha hitches a breath. Steve looks at her and smiles, taking her hand in his and squeezing it lightly. “Hey,” he says softly. “It’ll be okay.”

Natasha looks at him and nods, and she smiles back. Steve rolls the windows down, and unlocks the door. “Rogers. And hey, Nat.” Tony greets.

“Hi, Daddy!” Rose greets, and she gasps and grins widely when she spots Natasha. "It's Nat!" she exclaims, waving excitedly at her, and Natasha chuckles softly, smiling.

“Thanks for this, Tony,” Steve says, as Tony helps Rose in her car seat at the back of the car. “I’ll make it up soon, I promise.” Tony closes the door and crouches down at Steve’s level in the car.

“Yeah, yeah, best friend only when you need something,” Tony says, rolling his eyes playfully. Steve chuckles as Tony nods. “An explanation will do.” Tony eyes Natasha. “And I figured it’s a long one.”

“Over drinks, I promise,” Steve says, giving Natasha’s hand a squeeze. “Thanks again.”

And they drive off back to Steve’s apartment, as Rose babbles on about her day at daycare. Steve converses with her as Rose continues babbling her story, bouncing in her seat. Natasha listens quietly, a fond smile on her face. Steve brushes his thumb over the back of her hand soothingly and gently, as he continues to drive and talk to Rose.

When Steve finally stops and parks his car in the apartment building, he and Natasha get off, as Steve helps Rose out of her car seat and Natasha retrieves her things and the takeout. Natasha is nervous, obviously so with the way she takes deep breaths and the way she cautiously handles the takeout for Rose and her bag. Steve crouches in front of Rose and smiles at her. “Why don’t you go help Nat out in her things, hm?” he asks softly.

Rose nods, grinning as she skips over to Natasha, as Steve stands up and watches Natasha crouch down in front of Rose and smile as the little girl takes her bag of McDonald’s takeout. Rose grins when she says something and Natasha chuckles softly, tucking some of the girl’s hair behind her ear as she responds something that makes the little girl laugh, and stands again, with Rose taking Natasha’s hand. Natasha looks up at Steve who smiles, and she smiles back, and the two girls follow Steve back up in his apartment.

When they get inside the apartment, Natasha helps in taking off Rose’s backpack and coat, as Steve watches fondly. “You hungry, Rose?” Natasha asks softly, and Rose nods. “Your Daddy bought that for you, chicken nuggets, fries and sundae, like what your Daddy said you love.”

Rose’s eyes widen in delight as she grins up at Steve. “I love nuggets!” she exclaims, and Steve swore he had never seen the way Natasha’s face lights up as she watches Rose get so excited over a takeout meal from McDonald’s. Steve chuckles as he takes a deep breath, crouching down in eye level beside Natasha and in front of Rose.

“Hey, princess,” Steve says softly, and Rose looks back at Steve. Natasha looks at Steve, her eyes wide, and Steve can practically feel her heart thumping hard inside her chest. “Remember when you said you wanted a Mommy? And how you want Nat to be your Mommy?”

He looks at Natasha whose eyes are wide at him and he smiles softly and assuredly at her. “Yeah,” Rose answers, and Steve looks back at the little girl, whose eyes widen as she looks at Natasha excitedly. “Is Nat my Mommy now?”

Steve looks back at Natasha and gives her a small nod. Natasha’s eyes start filling with tears but she nods and gives him a small smile. She looks at Rose, and then at the rest of the house, and her eyes land on the full-length mirror by the entrance door. “Come here, Rose.” Natasha says softly, and she stands and takes Rose’s hand, leading them in front of the full length mirror. Steve stands and steps aside, as he watches Natasha and Rose face the mirror. Natasha crouches beside Rose, and places both of her hands on the girl’s shoulders.

They look alike, _ strongly _ resembling each other, and Steve has a small smile on his face as he thinks of how Natasha might tell Rose.

“You have green eyes.” Natasha says softly, and Rose nods, and looks at Natasha’s eyes in the mirror.

“You too,” Rose says softly, smiling. “We’re the same. Like how my friend, Andy, says she has the same blue eyes as her Mommy’s.”

_ That makes things easier, I suppose. _ Steve thinks, and Natasha seems to think of it as well as she nods. “But I don’t have red hair like you,” Rose adds softly, in a small voice. “Just curly.” She smiles widely at Natasha. “We both have curly hair.”

Natasha chuckles softly and nods, as tears start to fill her eyes. “Yeah, we do,” she agrees softly. “And we have the same nose, the same face, even. You’re like a mini me, a smaller Nat.”

Rose smiles, at the mirror and she giggles, and Natasha takes a deep breath. “You wanna know why?” she asks quietly and Rose nods. Natasha faces her and Rose turns to face the older woman. “It’s because I’m your Mommy, like how your classmates have their Mommies too. Like how some of them look like their Mommies, you look like me,” Natasha’s tears start falling as she sniffles. “Because I’ve been your Mommy for a long time, Rose. A _really _really long time.”

Rose’s eyes widen as she looks at Steve, and Steve nods encouragingly at the little girl. Rose looks back at Natasha and blinks. “But my friends have their Mommies for a long time,” she says in a small voice. “I only have Daddy.”

Natasha purses her lips and nods, and she attempts a smile despite feeling the corners of her lips turning down. She moves her hands to brush Rose’s cheeks gently with her thumbs, her hands resting on either side of her face. “I know. I know, Rose, and I'm...I'm sorry,” she answers softly. “But it’s because...it’s because I got lost.” She attempts a small smile as her voice breaks. “I got lost in a very far away place, that’s why I was away for a while, and that’s why you only got to ever see your Dad, and not me. But now I’m here,” she continues softly, her voice breaking as she smiles tearily. “I’m here, and you don’t have to look for a Mommy anymore, because I’m here.”

Rose blinks. “You won’t go back to the far away place anymore?” she asks in a small voice and Natasha shakes her head.

“Not anymore,” she says, her voice almost a whisper, as she smiles at the little girl. “Not anymore, because I found your Daddy, and I found you.” She shakes her head again. “I don’t have to go anywhere anymore.”

Rose seems to think about it for a moment, and Natasha watches the little girl’s reaction anxiously, her lips pursed as she continues to brush the little girl’s cheek with her thumbs gently. Steve is holding his breath as he watches, as he hopes this would turn out well, that _ all _ of these would turn out well.

And then Rose breaks into a smile. “Can I call you my Mommy?” she asks, almost excitedly, and Natasha laughs softly as she nods and sniffles.

“Of course,” Natasha answers, her voice breaking. “Of course, you can.”

Rose grins and she wraps her small arms around Natasha’s neck, pulling her in for an embrace. Natasha gasps lightly as she embraces Rose back, more tears spilling from her eyes as she closes it, and she holds back a sob as she cries silently, her hand running up and down Rose’s back, pressing the girl closer to her. Steve watches with a smile, and thinks about how Natasha had probably been waiting, _dreaming_ for this moment for a long time—where one day, she would be reunited with her daughter, and she could hold her, and tell her that everything is fine because her Mommy is with her.

Steve thinks that maybe this _ is _ her time of healing, a time where she can accept what had happened, and would be able to move forward now that things are falling back into place. Perhaps she never thought it would happen, even as she met Steve, perhaps she never thought she would be allowed to meet her, introduce herself as her Mommy, and that thought alone breaks his heart. And he thinks back—how fortunate it is that he was the one who happened to pass by the baby in the basket in the park in Moscow, and how she happened to move in Manhattan, be friends with his friends, and eventually found them.

She once said that the universe had managed to mess up the life she had as a younger woman in Russia, but as he looks at Natasha embracing her daughter—_ their _ daughter—now, he thinks that maybe perhaps the universe is starting to make up for the loss put upon her. Bit by bit. Little by little. Slowly, but surely.

And as he watches as Natasha pulls away to rest her forehead against Rose’s, the way she rubs their noses together, and the way Rose giggles softly as Natasha presses a kiss on the tip of her nose, he prays that her broken heart will soon be mended, too, starting with tethering her relationship with her little girl.

They spend the rest of the day in Steve’s apartment, and Rose would not let go of Natasha, as she would not let go of her either. Natasha cuddles up beside Steve as they watch a movie while Natasha feeds Rose her McDonald’s takeout. Rose continues to babble about her day, about the movie, about _ anything _ in general, and Steve and Natasha listen happily. Steve mostly watches the way Natasha’s face lightens up as Rose addresses her as “Mommy”, and the way Natasha smiles so differently—more beautifully—as she looks up at Steve, and the way her eyes sparkle so differently, so happily, filled with love, and happiness.

And Steve muses just how quickly things can change, just how healing perhaps can start so quickly.

Rose eventually falls asleep in the middle of their third Disney movie that afternoon, cuddled in Natasha’s arms, her head resting on her chest. Natasha looks down at Rose and smiles as she presses a kiss on top of the girl’s head, and she looks up at Steve who smiles and leans in to press a kiss on Natasha’s forehead.

“Do we put her to bed?” Natasha asks quietly. Normally, on her afternoon maps, she does lay on a bed, whether in the Tower or here at home, but Steve smiles and shakes her head.

“No, she’s pretty comfortable here, isn’t she?” he asks softly, and Natasha smiles as she looks down at Rose again.

“Thank you, Steve,” she whispers, looking up at Steve and giving him a smile. “For all of this, for Rose, and...and for you.” She smiles widely as Steve leans to press another kiss on the side of her head. “Thank you.”

“Hey,” Steve says softly, smiling as he brushes Natasha’s hair with his fingers. “Anything for you, anything for my best girls.” Natasha smiles up at him and rests her head on his chest as she closes her eyes.

There are three things, as Steve said, that managed to change his life. And he realized that all those three things are somehow borne out of spontaneity and listening to his first instincts and gut. First was when he found a crying baby in a park in Moscow after being forced in that place by his best-friend-slash-boss, and eventually thought of adopting her. Second was when he found a friend, and eventually someone _ more _ in Natasha Romanoff, at first a mysterious and beautiful woman who managed to capture his heart at first meeting. And third was when he found out that the baby he found in Russia was his lover’s long-lost daughter, as if _ he _ were the one fate had used to bridge the lost family back together.

And he had great difficulty accepting the third one, and it took him quite some time to come to terms with it, but now as he looks down at Natasha sleeping peacefully on his chest, Rose tucked in her arms between them, he realized that maybe he’s not really _ just _ a bridge. Maybe there was a deeper reason why he found Rose in Moscow, and why he met Natasha and had fallen for her. He wasn’t _ just _ a bridge, not _ just _ a Hail Mary sent to Natasha after she prayed for someone to take her daughter in all those years ago. He wasn’t _ just _ an outsider in this, he’s _ not. _

He is part of it, all of this. He’s part of this family, this family that may not be biologically his, but it’s where his heart belonged, and it’s where the hearts of his two girls belonged to. Natasha’s heart belongs to him, the same way his heart belongs to her, the same way his heart belongs to Rose, and hers to him. In this messy, sort of complex string of things, they are family.

Once upon a time, he thought that maybe discovering Rose's past was some form of responsibility he felt he should fulfill to tether back her severed roots from her past. It was her story he wanted to fulfill, not his, but somehow it had become a part of his story as well. Beyond his desire to discover how Rose was left alone in that park all those years ago, he saw it as his link to the people whose loss had gained him so much privilege in watching this girl grow up. But he got more than he bargained for, and beyond the answers he looked for, he found what love meant, what love looked like in its many forms. He found a family.

They are _ his _ family, and he promises in himself to do his best to make his family grow and thrive in love.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> decided to do a short second part of this work after rereading this last night. hope you enjoy!

A cold wind rushes, and she squints her eyes and brushes off the hair on her face as she pulls her coat closer around her, taking a shaky breath as she looks down at her feet. She steps on orange and brown dried leaves crunching under her boots—the early signs of autumn, along with the cold rushing wind and people around her wearing scarves, thick coats and bonnets. She releases a sigh and lifts her head to look straight ahead, as she tucks her hands in the pockets of her brown trench coat, taking in the most familiar sight she would always remember and know by heart, but had taken quite some time before she actually saw it again with her own eyes.

She feels her chest constrict, her cold rands running colder and damper in the pockets of her coat, especially when she stops in front of a grave marker—one she hasn’t visited in a long time because of how much it hurts, and because of how much it reminded her of how much she had lost in her young life. But stopping in front of the grave now, she finds that it hurts a little less now, seeing the grave marker in front of her with his name on it. It still brings tears to her eyes, makes her heart ache and chest constrict, but the pain is not as harrowing and searing as it used to be, the tears filling in her eyes not entirely out of guilt or grief anymore, but rather of melancholic nostalgia and gratefulness. Gratefulness, for the short amount of time they had spent together, and for the greatest gift she could ever receive from him.

It doesn’t hurt as much anymore, because somehow over the past couple of months (almost a  _ year, _ she thinks—and my, how time flies!), she has gained back the  _ one _ greatest gift he had given her, yet one she had also lost along the way. She found  _ someone _ she had lost, one she had spent  _ years _ looking for and mourning for, one she had spent years begging him for forgiveness for leaving her and being unable to take care of her. The corners of her lips tug upwards slightly, despite the faint pang of pain in her chest, as her mind travels back to a brown-haired, green-eyed little girl, who loves coloring and dancing, loves chicken nuggets and ice cream, and who loves snuggles and loves calling her Mommy. She thinks back to the little girl who lovingly calls the man she loves now as her Daddy, the man who had found her and took care of her when  _ she _ hadn’t, the man who still loved her back and accepted her despite knowing what she had done, the man who had given her back her whole world, and gave her even  _ more. _

“Hey, James,” Natasha whispers, smiling down at the grave marker in front of her, the one where it has his name: Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes, along with his birthday and date of death, or at least  _ alleged _ date of death as per what Rebecca used to tell her before. She lets out a small nod, the corners of her mouth quirking downwards as tears slowly fill her eyes, blurring her vision as she looks at it—as she looks at  _ him. _ “I’m sorry it took a while.”

She takes a shaky breath, crouching and eventually sitting in front of the grave. She puts her bag down beside her, and she quirks her mouth to the side, her chin quivering as she stares at his name. “I see you’ve just been cleaned,” she says quietly with a soft chuckle. “Last time I was here, the white doesn’t look  _ as _ white as it should, and if I had a bottle of bleach and some cleaning materials with me I would’ve done it myself, but I didn’t. And I’m sorry. But I’m glad to see your marker’s as white as the first time Becca showed it to me.” She lets out a sad smile. “It means you’re being looked after around here.”

Another cold wind rushes, and she closes her eyes and releases a sigh, shaking her head as she lets out a soft chuckle. “Is that a yes, James? You’re being looked after up there?” she asks softly, and she opens her eyes again to look at the marker in front of her. “That’s good. I think that’s really good.” she says softly, a small smile playing on her lips.

Natasha takes a deep breath, furrowing her eyebrows as she shakes her head slightly. “I know it’s been...I know it’s been a long time,” she says quietly, her voice cracking as she clears her throat and shakes her head again. “More than two years, right? Almost three, I guess. But it didn’t mean I forgot about you, James, I never did. I just...I never came around to...to visit much.” She pauses, her eyes filling with tears as she lifts a shoulder to a shrug. “And I know you know why.”

She thinks he does, or at least she  _ hopes _ that he does. In the short amount of time they were able to spend time together, she could at least know and believe that if his spirit was as kind as he had been when he had been alive, he would understand. He would understand the guilt filling in the crevices and spaces in her heart that is already overflowing with grief and heartbreak over his death and for what she had done. He would understand her need for time, in an attempt to move past the life she had once lived when she had lived in Russia, and in an attempt to move forward from her loved ones being separated from her. He would understand her need for  _ not _ visiting him, for not going all the way from Manhattan to Long Island just to be reminded by the losses she’s had in her young life.

Natasha takes a shaky breath and releases a long and slow one as she shakes her head. “And I know it took me so long too. It took me quite a long time, but...I found her, James,” she says softly, smiling sadly at the grave marker where his name is. “I found our little girl.”

The little girl who has his hair and charm, the little girl who has his kind heart. He would’ve loved her—their little Rose, he would’ve adored her and loved her as much as she does now, and possibly even more.

“She’s been taken care of, before I found her and got to know her. She’s been taken good care of,” she says, and her smile widens. “She was found by this man...Steve Rogers. And it’s...it’s funny how we met, you know, and how we got close, how I got to know he has Rose. He wanted to go out on a date with me, and asked me out during the first few times we’ve met—like a love at first sight on his part.” She pauses, quirking her mouth to the side as she sighs. “Kind of like how  _ we  _ started...like how  _ I _ fell in love with you at first sight.”

She’d resolved this inside her heart already, with Steve’s help, in trying to process all the things that had happened to her in her past life. And in her heart, somehow she thinks that a huge part of the reason why she had been reluctant to be together with Steve from the very beginning is because of how unresolved she had been with her past—the heartbreak of James’ death that she still refused to move on from, the guilt continually consuming her for being forced to leave her child—all of it preventing her from accepting a new life and new love coming her way, even if that man had been as kind, as charming and as gentle as how she remembered James to be. A huge part of the reason why she refused to be with him, was because of how similar their situations might have been—with Natasha instantly falling in love with James, the same way Steve had instantly fallen in love with her.

And a part of her heart had also thought it was because of her refusal to open her heart to another, afraid of the same heartbreak she might experience, the one that kept her frozen in her past and the one that separated her from her child. Now, now as she’s starting to open herself once again to another—to  _ Steve Rogers, _ the man whom she found herself falling in love with even before she knew of Rose, the man who had accepted her and loved her despite, she feels liberated,  _ free. _

“And he makes me happy, James,” she whispers softly, shaking her head slightly. “He makes me happy, and I think I make him happy too. But most especially, he makes Rose happy, James...he makes our little girl happy.” She pauses, and shakes her head as she sniffles, pulling her knees closer to her chest as she sighs. “And I’m falling in love with him... _ really _ falling in love with him, and I don’t ever want to stop, most especially because I know that he loves me just as much as I love him. And I don’t want to let that go, James. I don’t want to let this one pass.”

Because she thinks she deserves it, at the very least—to have this kind of love that will stay, this kind of love that will be so strong that nothing can ever come between them. After everything, she thinks it’s high time for her to finally feel that kind of love, the one that frees her from the guilt of the past, the one that liberates her from grief and heartbreak, the one that will  _ mend _ her heart and finally allow herself to  _ love _ someone back just as much.

And Steve Rogers...his love is all of those things. It’s overwhelming, sometimes  _ too _ overwhelming she has moments where she thinks she doesn’t deserve such kind of love, but he’s always quick to assure her that she has the same kind of love for him, too, which she believes she does too. She doesn’t want to let this go, doesn’t want to let  _ him _ go.

“I don’t know, I...I don’t know what I’m supposed to say here, but I just thought I should...I should tell you,” she says softly, shaking her head. “I know it’s a bit of an ill time, since I’m supposed to be here and greet you a happy birthday, but…” she trails off and lets out a quiet chuckle and a sniffle, lifting her shoulder to a small shrug. “This is really coming off like a breakup of some sorts. But I think I see this as not a breakup, or not a cause of heartbreak, but...but a gift—a birthday gift for you, and a gift as well for me.” She lowers her head and looks down at her feet. “I think I’m letting you go, James. After  _ so _ many years, I think I’m ready to set you free.”

A tear slips Natasha’s eyes, feeling her heart constrict, yet feeling her chest somehow lighten, the moment she says those words—those words of freedom and of love. “You can rest now. If you’re up there, still worried about Rose, or still worried about me...or if we would ever find our way back to each other, you can rest now,” she whispers, more tears spilling from her eyes as she lets out a watery smile. “‘Cause we found each other, and we’re okay. We’re being taken care of. We’re being  _ loved.  _ We’re being loved so much, James, both by  _ you _ and by Steve, so we’re okay.” She nods. “Your girls are okay.”

Natasha reaches for her bag and opens it, taking out a single red rose and laying it on the grass by the foot of the marker, and she smiles widely. “What we had together, I promise I’ll remember all of it, most especially the roses you’ve given me, and most especially the Rose that you gave to me,” she says softly. “When the right time comes, I promise I’ll bring her here, and she can get to know more about you. And I can imagine how beautiful that day will be. Happy birthday, James. Know that I’ll always love you, and you’ll always be in my heart.”

Natasha allows herself a few more moments of silence, just sitting on the grass in front of James’ grave marker. Years ago, the first time she had seen his grave upon her arrival in America, she remembers visiting it with Becca, James’ younger sister. She remembers it all  _ vaguely,  _ blurred with tears and despair, where all she can remember is Becca holding her while she cries, tearfully sobbing how sorry she is for leaving their baby and failing to find her, tearfully begging for him to come back, and heartbreakingly telling him she loves him, and she wished he didn’t have to go early. She never went back afterwards, as she eventually moved to Manhattan in an attempt to rebuild and restart a life of her own, but failing so when she found that she cannot, for the life of her, live a normal young American woman’s life—that of which consists of socializing and dating, all because of how she had been held back by her past life and heartbreak.

She remembers cursing her inability to move on and move past it. Like how every fifth of February since moving to America, on her baby’s birthday, she would still buy a small cupcake with a candle on top, light it up and blow it, making a wish that her baby is okay and loved, and she would spend the rest of the day unable to move and leave her house, out of heartbreak and guilt and regret. She remembers cursing her inability to move on from James’ death, about how she still mourned for their short time together, that every time a guy would ask her out on a date, she has to decline, feeling guilty about having to replace him for another, when she thought they deserved all the time in the world when they didn’t get the chance to.

But now it’s been a year. It’s been  _ more _ than a year since she first met Steve, been more or less a year since he first asked her out and she declined him at first, yet made sure to herself to always keep him close because she felt something different towards him. It’s been almost a year since she found her little Rose, and it’s been a wonderful couple of months since then. Now, her baby lovingly calls her Mommy, and she gets the chance to raise her alongside Steve and watch her grow, do normal things a mother usually does like bringing her and picking her up from school, helping her get dressed and preparing her meals, among many other things.

But most of all, now, she has found and accepted love in Steve, and perhaps that’s what made her feel the happiest she had ever felt in her life.

Her phone vibrates in the pocket of her pants, and she fishes it out to check a message from Steve—his usual midday text asking her how she is, and telling her that he’s currently on lunch break at work. On a normal day, he would ask her what she would be doing, or if she had lunch, or he would ask how work has been, asking about specific kids he had met in the preschool she works in. But today isn’t a normal day at all, or at least it’s  _ not _ like any other day Steve would know she would have, and he knows that.

Her heart tugs slightly, corners of her mouth tugging upwards into a small smile as she reads his text:  _ Not rushing, want you to take your time with him. Tell me if you want me to go to LI to get you. _

It’s a simple text, a simple gesture, but him letting her take her time to settle the scores of her past means the whole world to her, and she could never be more grateful for him.

Natasha sighs and puts her phone inside her coat pocket, wrapping her arms around her knees once again and pulling them closer to her chest. She rests her chin on top of her knees, her eyes trained on his name—the  _ one _ name that used to haunt her every night, but now is just a distant memory of a well-loved man. She takes this time to remember his baby blue eyes, chiseled, handsome face, his gentle voice, his beautiful smile and wonderful laugh. Thinking of them used to hurt a lot, but now it doesn’t anymore—not by  _ much _ anymore, anyway.

After some time, she gives a small nod and a smile. “I’ll see you again soon, James,” she says softly, pressing her two fingers on her lips and resting it on the grave mark. “С Днем Рождения, моя любовь.”  _ Happy birthday, my love. _ She gets up from the grass and picks up her bag, smoothing down her coat and pants and after taking one last look, she turns, breathing deeply as she walks away.

She takes her phone, and smiling, she presses Steve’s number and puts her phone against her ear, listening to the other line ringing. “Hello?” his voice comes in, and Natasha smiles widely.

“Hey, you.” she greets, and she hears a light laugh on the other line.

“Hey, beautiful,” he responds with that gentle voice of his, and she doesn’t need to see him to know that he’s smiling so widely as he talks to her. “How are you? How’s your visit going so far?” he asks.

Natasha takes a deep breath and nods. “It’s great. I’m heading back home now,” she says softly, and Steve hums on the other line. “I think...I think I said what I needed to say.”

“That’s great, babe,” Steve says softly, and she knows by the tone of his voice that he means it, every word of what he’s saying. “You sure it’s enough? You heading back home already? I-I mean not that I don’t want you to, I-I  _ do, _ but it’s—”

Natasha laughs and shakes her head. “Steve, I know,” she assures, and she hears a light chuckle on the other line. “And yeah, I think it’s enough. I’m ‘bout to head back.” She smiles widely. “I’ll drop by our place before I pick up Rose from school.”

“Or we can pick her up together,” Steve suggests softly. “Head straight here first, kill some time with me, then let’s get her together, yeah? Then we’ll get some ice cream or something.” Natasha laughs softly, and she looks up to find that she has reached the exit of the cemetery. She turns the corner to the pedestrian sidewalk.

“You’re trying to get our little girl into  _ another _ sugar rush episode?” she asks, raising an eyebrow, as she continues to walk, and Steve chuckles in the other line.

“The sooner she sleeps, the better, right? Means more time for  _ just _ us.” he says, and Natasha laughs.

“Do tell what’s running in your mind, Steven Rogers.” she says, and Steve lets out a low,  _ dangerous _ chuckle—dangerous enough that it makes her  _ feel _ things even when on the phone.

“I won’t  _ tell _ you as much as  _ show _ you,” he responds. “Which is why I’m asking you to go straight here in the Tower once you get on the train.” Natasha chuckles.

“Gross, we’re not gonna do it in your office.” she teases.

“Not what I meant, babe,” Steve says with a chuckle, and Natasha smiles. “I’ll see you later, okay? Text me once you’re on the train. Will you be going straight here?”

“I will, to all of it,” she responds, and Steve hums. “I’ll see you later, Steve.”

“I love you, Nat.” Steve says softly, and Natasha smiles as she feels her heart flutter at his words. It’s not exactly the first time he said it, but she can’t deny how it still makes her feel as if it’s still the first time he said it.

“I love you too, Steve.” she responds, and she puts her phone back in her pocket as she continues with her commute on her way home.

It had been a foreign concept once—her  _ home, _ one she’s not sure exactly where, whether in Russia or in here, whether in Long Island or in Manhattan. She never really had one at all in her life, never really thought she  _ could _ ever have one, especially after the losses she’d experienced, but here she is anyway. An hour and a half later, she finds herself in front of a familiar building, walking inside after being let in, and taking the elevator to the office of her beloved, her  _ home. _

Now, her home consists not exactly of a place, but of people—two, to be exact. And one of them is smiling at her as she steps inside his office, getting up from his seat and meeting her halfway as he wraps his arms around her waist to pull her close, leaning down to press a soft and gentle kiss on her lips as she rests her hands on his firm chest. She hums against his mouth, kissing him back as softly and as gently as he does, and eventually wrapping her arms around his body once she pulls away, smiling up at him as he presses a kiss on her forehead.

He is home—this man right here who loves her just as much as she loves him, who has accepted her and waited patiently for her to open her heart to him. He is her home, or at least  _ one _ of them who completes her home.

The other one comes in the form of a giggling five-year-old making a beeline right at her as she crouches down to catch her in her arms in front of preschool. Natasha feels her small arms wrapping around her neck as she picks her up, pressing a kiss on her soft brown hair as she feels Steve’s hand rest on the small of her back, and the little girl looks up at both of her parents, smiling widely at them filled with love and joy. Natasha asks her to “kiss Mommy on the cheek”, and she does so, while Natasha presses another kiss on the tip of her nose as Steve leans down to press a loving kiss on the side of her head.

She is home—this little girl right here who loves her just as much as  _ she _ loves her, who lovingly calls her Mommy and who enjoys snuggles and kisses with her Mommy and Daddy, but  _ most _ especially with her Mommy. She is her home, the one she had lost but now she has found, one she thought she would never have back, but now she would never let go of. She is her home, or at least  _ one _ of them who completes her home.

This home, this family she has, for some reason, the universe has its own odd way of connecting them by fate. She had found Steve in a time where she had been looking and searching for something else, for  _ someone  _ else, one who happens to be under Steve’s nose for quite some time, finding out so eventually after deciding to give him a shot with her. She had found Rose in a time where she thought she never could, found her in a loving home where, at first she’d been afraid she might never fit in, but now she is a perfect part of.

Once upon a time, she had thought that fate had been cruel, cruel enough to subject her to so much pain in her young life, and cruel enough to stop her from living a normal life she failed to do so in the beginning. Once upon a time, she thought she wouldn’t ever have this—a home and a family, all of it filled with love and filled with joy. Sometimes, her heart would still ache, of course, at how her life so far has turned out, but all in a good way. There were hardships,  _ lots _ of it, but she is here. And  _ here, _ she thinks, is good, far better than what she could have imagined for herself.

When she looks at her life now, she smiles, and she lifts her chin up and takes a deep breath, because her being here means that fate is not yet discouraged at her at all.


End file.
